Don't Fight Fire with Fire
by bookworm7117
Summary: Mid-Catching Fire. A mysterious victor from District 3 becomes an ally to Katniss & Peeta in the games. But Katniss must decide what this girl really wants & if she's an enemy or ally. Kind of pushing a T rating. Peeta&Katniss Gale&someone else
1. Chapter 1: To Want for Nothing

This starts about mid-Catching Fire. I will not be going into all the details because we all have imaginations and know roughly what happened. Basically, we are starting when Katniss and Peeta are at the Captiol and they are meeting the victors. It starts out at one of the training sessions.

Chapter One: To Want for Nothing

I can't believe that Haymitch is making me do this. Why would I want to get to know the people I will be forced to kill in a few days? This is ridiculous. My only focus should be protecting Peeta. I have to remind myself that Haymitch is most likely on my side, and so by befriending my competition, I may be indirectly helping Peeta. I sigh and force myself to join a rather short girl at the knot-tying station. She smirks as I grab a rope as if she knows why I'm over here. As if she suspects that the only reason I grunt a "hi" is to give Peeta an edge. She nods in my direction and we tie knots in silence. She's not amazing, but she's a little better than I am at it.

"So...Peeta?" she nods in his direction and raises her eyebrows at me.

I shrug, confused by what she means.

"Is he _good_?" At what? I think, but instead I just give her a confused look. She responds with laughter that seems to be pealing off window chimes.

"I'm Char, as in Charlotte," she says.

"Katniss," I give a half-hearted, still very confused, smile. She smiles back, knowingly.

"My parents thought it was funny-Charlotte's Web-as in the "world-wide-web,"' she laughs. I had heard something about some kind of world where things traveled between two technological devices. I think it's called an internet, but the web sounds familiar. "I think it's a stupid District 3 joke," she returns my thoughts to the present. District 3, huh?

"I'm named after a plant," I say.

"Lovely," she says sarcastically. "Can you eat it?" she snorts.

"Yeah," I smile because something about the way she says it makes me laugh.

"So back to Peeta," she smirks, "I always thought he'd be a good lover...?"

I'm in shock. I can't even think. Lover? Did these victors actually believe...

"I heard he paints. Do you guys ever try...body painting?" she wriggles her eyebrows. I gasp, dropping my rope and I know my cheeks are bright red. She laughs, continuing delicately braiding her rope.

"I guess not. Hmm.." she puts one finger to her lips and smiles, "He's a baker right?"

I nod, numbly.

"Well, I'll bet that puts a whole new meaning to the phrase, bun in the oven," she laughs.

I suck in a deep breath, cheeks burning with embarrassment and anger.

"It would," says a voice behind me. I turn to see it's Peeta, and I relax. Surely, he can play this off. "Wouldn't it?" He seems so deep in thought, like he's actually considering the joke.

I lost in thought, Um, hello, Peeta! First of all, I would never in a million years be pregnant...there's too many dangerous, terrifying possibilities. Second of all, it would have to be his kid because I'm pretty sure that Snow would never allow me to marry Gale, even if I wanted to, and right now, all I planned on doing was getting Peeta out of the arena. That meant that I wasn't coming home. That meant no baby-end of story. I relaxed.

"Char," says the girl, flashing him a brilliant smile. I realize now that she's very beautiful. She has sparkling purple eyes with long, wavy black hair. Her skin is a golden color. Her lips are full and welcoming. How did I _just_ realize this? Is it just me or is Peeta staring at her a little _too_ long? I shake my head, mentally. So what? Peeta can stare at anyone he likes. We are not on camera, so what's it matter? But I can't help feeling the a knotting feeling in the pit of my stomach when he flashes one of his heart-stopping smiles back.

"Peeta," he says, firmly shaking her hand. When he lets go of her hand, I slip my hand into his, holding on tightly. "District 3, right? Your games were...interesting." There's a suspicious smile playing in the corners of his mouth. I see the same mystery playing in her eyes.

"Yes, weren't they?" She gives us both a mysteriously look and laughs, sauntering off towards Finnick.

We both stare off after her for a moment, then I look up at Peeta. His eyes are still on her. I hear Char say in a high-pitched girlie squeal, "Oh Finnick! You've definitley been working out!" I glance over to see her feeling up Finnick's biceps. I roll my eyes and pull Peeta over to the plant station.

"I want her," Peeta says. My face falls. I can feel it before I can stop myself. He _wants_ her.

He pulls my chin up towards his face, "As an _ally_." I feel stupid. Why should I be hurt by who Peeta wants? Didn't I choose Gale before we were thrown into this mess?

I shrug, and stare off like I'm actually considering it. I turn to the plants, "No."

I said it with finality, so I'm surprised when Peeta pulls me back towards him, forcing me to look into his eyes. "Why not?" He's searching me for an answer. For something I cannot give him. I just have a feeling in the pit of my stomach. I do not like Char. It annoys me that Peeta likes her so much to challenge me. Maybe he's hoping I'll tell him "no" because of my feelings for him. If I'm that readable then I seriously need to take some lying classes or something. But I do not give him any satisfaction.

I simply raise my eyebrows and purse my lips. He sighs and lets go of me. For a second, I'm worriied that he'll drop my hand, but he doesn't. It's Peeta, and I know him. He will not abandon me. He will never let of my hand. Even when I'm being unreasonable. I sigh because I know that at some point, if he keeps pushing this, I'm going to give in because this time these games are not about me. I've made no promise to return. I have no duty to my family. Peeta will make sure they are well fed. The only reason I'm here is to make sure this boy, this boy who gave me that life-saving bread so long ago, stays completlely alive. It's my job to protect him at all costs. I know I will die, but I must die knowing that he will be safe.

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	2. Chapter 2: Knowing the Inevitable

Chapter 2:

Peeta's POV

I scanned the room, nodding when other victors met my gaze. Katniss and I were about to leave the training room, but I wanted to get a last look at the potential allies. I had spent most of the day with the Career Pack, who I thought would give us an obvious advantage. Haymitch had given me specific instructions to make conversation with as many victors as possible, since we both knew Katniss was not one for small talk. She had spent her day at the less-crowded stations with Betee, Mags, occasionally Finnick, and Charlotte. I looked down at Katniss, who was looking up at me through her long eyelashes. She was waiting for me, so I took her hand in mine and squeezed it as we rode the elevator up to our floor.

I glanced at the beautiful girl by my side, who I was absolutely determined to protect. I had loved her for longer than I could remember. I knew my time was limited; I just wished that I could hear her say it. Hear her say that she loved me too. But I knew that was just hopeful wishing; she doesn't feel that way for me. She was just acting-the entire time in the arena, and even after. Everything's been an act, I have to remind myself, as I resist the urge to kiss her.

"So who do you want?" she asked. I raised my eyebrow. Hadn't I just said I wanted Char?

"Uh-"

"Besides her," Katniss added. I nodded, thinking.

"Well, the Careers have obvious value..."

"Yeah, I guess."

"But I know you don't really like that idea." She nodded.

"What about you? Who do you want?" I asked.

"Mags? Betee-he's smart. He invents things."

"Okay, I'm leaning towards Chaff and Seeder."

"I'm okay with Seeder. Not Chaff-not yet, at least."

"Chaff's not so bad," I smile, "You're just unsure because he kissed you that one time."

She rolls her eyes, but a smile plays on her lips. Then she sighs. I nod. There's not much to say. I know we are both thinking about who the best allies would be in order to save each other. I hate that she's determined to save me. I don't have much to go home to. She should be the one that comes out of this alive; she deserves it. I wanted to give her every possible edge I could to make sure she survived this cruelty. I remembered the idea I got when I was talking to Char. She was talking about "a bun in the oven," and of course, she was joking, but what if...what if it wasn't a joke? What if I told the Capitol that Katniss was pregnant? Surely that would help with the sponsors, and maybe it'd even draw fans against the Capitol. I almost wanted to thank Char for that idea. I mean, she's the one who planted it in my head. It almost seemed like she'd done it on...purpose.

"Katniss!" I said with urgency. She shook her head out of her world of thoughts and stared at me with her smokey and firey gray eyes.

I took a deep breath, "Are you sure about Char?" I just had this gut feeling. Char reminded me of Katniss in such a indistinct way. It's like when someone gets a hair cut and you know something about them is different, but you just can't put your finger on it. Well, something about Char reminded me of Katniss, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. Which was weird because Char had a reputation for...being a sex symbol-not unlike Finnick, and Katniss was...well as I put it on the elevator: "pure."

She sucked in a breath, "Yes." She fixed her gaze downward, but didn't pull her hand from mine. The elevator door opened and we walked into the room where Haymitch was waiting completely intoxicated.

"So, how did making friends go?" Haymitch growled, not looking up from his drink.

Katniss huffed. "Alright," I said.

"Who do you want, sweetheart?" He set down his bottle, staring at Katniss.

She glared, "Betee and Mags."

Haymitch smirked, shaking his head, "Course you do. Course you do."

"I want Charlotte," I say, speaking up and ignoring the glare Katniss gives me.

"No," she huffs, exasperated.

Haymitch is thinking about it, which makes Katniss even angrier. She rips her hand from and storms over to the table where dinner is waiting. I take my seat beside hers, but she doesn't look at me.

"Char, huh? Not bad...anyone else?" Haymitch gruffs finally.

"I think we both kinda liked Chaff and Seeder," I say shooting a glance at Katniss, "Maybe Finnick." Katniss growls, scowling at the plate of food in front of her as she scarfs it down.

I ignore her and set my gaze on Haymitch, who is also aware of Katniss's disgust for my ally suggestions. He says, "Chaff and Seeder. Good. I like them. And...Finnick and Mags are from the same district, so that should be easily arranged. Katniss?"

"What?" She growls.

He gives her a knowing look. And right there I know that they have made a deal. A deal to keep me alive, and I know I have to reinforce what he has promised me. At the reminder of why she's here, Katniss sobers up. She tries to put on a more pleasant, or at least less hostile, disposition.

Haymitch asks, "Finnick and Mags as allies?"

She grunts, which gets her a glare from Haymitch, requiring a full answer. Katniss rolls her eyes, "I guess so. Sure."

"Well, sweetheart, you need to decide cause you got six possible allies. That's too big of a group. At least for your liking," he raised his eyebrows. "Don't wanta kill your friends." We all look down, sadly. "Well then, make a damn decision girl."

Katniss's head snaps up, her eyes narrowing at our mentor. She says nothing, still thinking.

I nod, "What about Betee and Char? They're both from 3 right?"

Haymitch smirks as Katniss's face falls to a scowl directed at the table, "Yeah I guess that would be okay too."

I sigh, "Come on, Katniss. I don't want an ally that you don't approve of, but I just don't think you are being fair. I'm trying to compromise! What do you have against Char, anyways?"

She meets my eyes and frowns, "I'm sorry, Peeta."

And in that second, I know she'd do it. She'd give in and let us have Char and Finnick, but she doesn't want to. I can't stand it. She's so stubborn, and maybe she's being unreasonable, but I can't force her into this.

Despite myself, I'm seething, "You know, Katniss, this isn't all just about what _you_ want!" I can't stand it anymore. I storm from the table, to my room, completely aware that Haymitch understands the double-meaning of my words.

Just as I'm opening my door I hear him say, "You know, he's just upset because he knows you're not trying to win."

Before I slam my door I hear Katniss whisper, "I know."

And then I sit on my bed with my hands cradling my head, as I strive to find a way to ensure Katniss is the one who is saved.


	3. Chapter 3: Shiver

Chapter 3: Shiver

Katniss POV

Peeta was mad. He was mad at me for my choice. Not really the one about allies, but the one I made to save him. The one I made to sacrifice myself. But I had to ignore his anger, and focus on being prepared for the games and my inevitable death.

"Alright, sweetheart, you figure out what you and the dough-boy wanna do fer allies. I'm goin' t'sleep," Haymitch slurred, stumbling over to this room.

I sighed, sliding back in my seat. There's no way I am sleeping without Peeta. I couldn't if I tried; the nightmares are just too much. I knew how bad they would be tonight because the threat of the Quell was looming so close overhead. And seeing as Peeta isn't particularly happy with me right now, I figured he wouldn't be too inclined to share a bed with me.

I resigned myself to the TV. Peeta's words were ringing in my head "You know, Katniss, this isn't all just about what _you_ want!" I shuffled through the box of previous game videos, and my hands settled on the one labeled "The 72nd Hunger Games-Charlotte Flype." Maybe I should be a better..._whatever_ Peeta and I were, and try to compromise by giving Char a chance. I couldn't even remember watching her games, and wondered why, since Peeta had been so set on us training as much as possible. This of course included watching all the previous games to better understand our opponents. I put the video into the Tv and curled myself up on the couch.

Immediately I was enthralled. The tributes were called from each district. From 3, a woman who could have easily passed for Effie's twin sister, stood on stage giving a speech for the Reaping. She had short, bright purple, curly hair. She spoke in the same high-pitched Capitol accent that Gale and I always enjoyed mimicking as she called, "Charlotte Flype."

The cameras shifted from her smiling face to a boney 15-year-old girl with tan skin and very long, dark hair. Her purple eyes flickered to the four clinging to her arms with fear. Not a single one of them looked old enough to be eligible for tesserae. The kids shrieked. The peacekeepers were dragging the girl away from her siblings, whose arms were extended adding to the utter helplessness their eyes clearly showed. Tears rolled down their faces, and the youngest child started whimpering. It grew louder and louder.

The girl was now on stage, desperately trying not to cry as she said, "It's okay, Sammy. It's okay. Shhh." Her words were not very convincing, and I wondered who she was trying to calm down-herself or the wailing little boy. Eventually, a kind, older woman picked up the child, shushing and whispering sweet, calming words.

He settled down enough for the hyper Capitol lady to give a quite sinister smile, and say, "Well, if all the interruptions are over, we can contiue with this love-ly ceremony." She wrinkled up her face, as if she couldn't wait, but the impatience was evident in her eyes. Apparently, she was on as much of a time crunch as Effie.

The rest of the reapings were pretty uneventful. The only volunteers were Careers. The procession of chariots displaying the tributes was typical, as well. Unfortunately that year, District 12 was forced into coal-colored body paint costumes. I grimaced, and for the millionth time, thanked Cinna for his beautful costumes.

Charlotte, however, looked radiant from District 3. The haggard little girl from the Reaping was gone, and a sexy, full-lipped, smokey-eyed woman took her place. Her purple eyes reflected with the skillfully-draped, nearly transparent, metallic dress. Her dress cut in a low V-neck, pushing her breasts up, and the hemline stopped a few generous inches above her knee. Char's dress hugged her in all the right places. She looked stunning, and suprising not distasteful. I applauded her stylist. Her hair was pulled away from her gorgeous face, but set in lucious curls. Char worked the crowd too; she waved, blew kisses, and smirked. Everyone wanted her; it was clear that most eyes were directed to her. I felt bad for her counterpart, for he was completely forgotten at the sight of her radiance.

Next, Caesar came on introducing us to the tributes one by one, and trying to give them as much of an angle as possibly in a mere three minutes. I shuddered, remembering how forgetful I was last year. At least until Peeta confessed his love for me...

None of the interviews really stood out until Charlotte. Of course, her entire interview was shown because she was the Victor. Her name was called, and when she stood up I gasped. She wore a floor-length, slinky dress with two thigh-high slits up both her legs. It was covered in actual pieces of copper, so it imitated scales. Again, it cut in a low V, accentuating her well-endowed figure, and the back drooped low as well. The shape was very simple, but it suited her so well. She really was breath-taking-her makeup still the same smokey-eyes and plump, red lips. Her hair was half-up, half-down, curled and braided. The audience cheered.

Caesar started, "So Charlotte, you look gorgeous I must say-" That gained a round of applause from the crowd. She blushed.

"Thanks, Caesar. You're so nice. And you can call me, Char-all of you." She was so sweet and endearing.

"Aw, alright, Char, so how do you like all the dressing up?"

A smile spread across her face, "_Well_," she said as if she was dishing to the audience. "I defnitely do not appreciate my hair being ripped out of my skin-" She giggled, "But I can't deny the results."

The audience and Caesar laughed, "No one said being beautiful is easy."

She grinned, and laughed, "Of course not! No, but I love it all. It's every girl's dream, right?" She sounded so sweet and girly.

"Right," Caesar smiled, "Now you have four younger siblings, right?"

"Yeah, I just love being a big sister. But it's a lot of responsibility. I have to take care of them all the time, but I do find time for myself." The way she said the last part sounded mysterious. The crowd caught it "ooh-ing," and Caesar raised his eyebrows.

"Hm? And does this time include...a _boy_?" The audience waited in anticipation.

Her laughter sounded like delicate chimes, "Oh, my, that's quite..._personal_." She winked. The audience was putty in her hands, holding onto her every word, wondering is this gorgeous girl was taken.

Caesar nodded, smiling to prod her on. She blushed, giggling, "Well, there's been a few boys, I guess."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and..." she giggled nervously, then sobered, "It's kind of hard because..." she sniffled, looking down, "the girls really hate me. It's so unfair."

The "aw-ed" sympathetically, along with Caesar. They loved the idea of someone hated for their beauty; so tragic.

Char looked up, smirking, "I mean, it's not _my_ fault, their boyfriends all fall at my feet." She rolled her eyes, giggling. The crowd joined her, adoring the cute, heartbreaker.

Caesar chuckled, "Char Flype-the heartbreaker, eh?"

"Yeah, I suppose," she smiled, innocently.

"But surely you have your own boyfriend? The one fighting off all your suitors!" Caesar waved his arms, getting the crowd to prod Char for an answer. They screamed, "Who? Who? Who?"

She giggled nervously and then sobered again. She swallowed, and the place silenced, feeling the change in her disposition. "Well, Caesar, honestly...I think I had...someone-" she faltered, looking down, and then regaining enough confidence to continue on with the story. "It's just that I-I had to sacrifice myself...and that relationship to take care of my family. My brothers and sisters-Sammy, Metalia, Penny, and Lumi-needed me. I just-I love them more than anything, and I couldn't risk...losing them."

The whole audience "aw-ed" and sniffled. Caesar put a supportive hand on her shoulder. She sighed, looking down.

Caesar said very gently, "So saying goodbye must have been hard."

She nodded, sucking in a breath and smiling sadly, "Metalia is three and she was so flustered she was going to take my place herself." She laughed sadly, recalling, "And Sammy-he's just two-he wouldn't...wouldn't stop crying." She got choked up. "But Penny tried to be stronger, she just held my hand," Char closed her eyes. "Penny's only nine, but she already has worry lines creasing her pretty little face. And-and...Lumi." She sighed. "Lumi was so strong and silent. He's almost twelve. He only told me one thing: "to win, at all costs."'

The crowd was in tears, wailing, and crying. They loved this sexy, nuturing girl. She was so complex; she really appealed to almost any audience member...except maybe someone who wanted a fighter.

Caesar patted Char's hands, and gave her a supportive smile, "So now you're here."

She nodded, and then a look I had never seen on such a beautiful face appeared. It was vicious, fierce, evil, and almost un-human. She narrowed her eyes and growled in an animalistic, hostile voice, "And I'm _going_ to win," she paused, "At _all_ costs."

Every audience member was stunned into a shocked silence. Then, Char's face spread into a brilliant smile. The timer rang. She was giggling; she blew kisses at the audience and waved on the way back to her seat. The crowd paused for just a mili-second, and then they errupted into an ear-splitting cheer. Caesar himself seemed a little unhinged by the mood-swinging girl. It took him a good three seconds to get into the next interview, and even then, the boy from Char's district just kept staring at her.

She sat in her chair, pleasantly half-smiling, as she studied her perfect nails, and occasionally glanced over to Caesar and the boy. I thought I saw a small smirk cross her face as she surveyed the crowd, and tributes, who, of course, where all staring at her. When she looked up, everyone shifted their gaze back to Caesar and the boy. Char looked down again, appearing to hide a blush. But I knew better-she was smirking. A shiver ran up my spine.

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Yeah...this chp. is very long. I just didn't know when to stop replaying Char's games. Next chapter they will continue... Do you think you know who Char is?


	4. Chapter 4: Underdog

**Sorry this is so late. Her name is Charlotte Daedalus, but I played around with a few different last names. So if it says "Flype" or something else...it's supposed to be Daedalus. Thanks! (: **

Chapter 4:

Katniss POV

I continued watching Charlotte Daedalus's Hunger Games. There was something so appealing about her. It drew me in; _hell_, it drew everyone in. I wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was her multiple personalities. I wondered if my mother would diagnose that as an illness, a disease. It sure seemed like one. However, I remembered that she was just trying to win the games-"at all cost," like she had said so viciously. Perhaps, she was just trying to appeal to any sponsor. I was sure it was an effective method. Part of me really liked her for this. I appreciated the way she talked about her siblings; the way she sacrificed herself-or at least said she did-to save them. I appreciated the way she wasn't giving up. She was there to fight; she was there to win. I appreciated her smarts and cleverness that she clearly displayed in the way she skillfully played the games before they even started. The other side of me hated every inch of her. She was not be trusted. Every word that escaped her lips could be all part of a carefully designed plot. Then I remembered Peeta and I's carefully designed plot-our star-crossed lovers strategy. Maybe I had no right to judge, but something about her just seemed sinister, or even animal. She just wasn't all there.

The games continued, and before they cut to the clip of the game location, they reminded us of the scores from the private training sessions. Charlotte had scored a nine. I wondered what she had done to deserve something like that. I mean, yeah she was so skilled with words that she could persuade an army to fight for her. She reminded me of Peeta in that way. But, I didn't see her as any real physical threat. In District 3, I doubted there were many opportunities to acquire useful killing skills. They dealt with the technology. Other districts fished, worked in trees, or even trained for the games before they came to the Capitol. What could a beautiful girl from 3, who didn't appear to be a super genius inventor, have that she could turn into a weapon?

The screen flashed to a cornicopia made out of platinum. It was stainless, and seemed impossible to climb. That's exactly what had to happen, though. All the supplies were at the very top of it. This ensured a bloodbath. They flashed to Charlotte who had inspected the cornicopia and turned away from it. She was glancing around at the arena. It kind of reminded me of my first one. There were hills, rocks, and caves. There was a foresty area. A few ponds surrounded the cornicopia. Most of the arena was a huge meadow; it was filled with tall flowers, plants, and grasses. Char positioned herself to run.

The Gamemaker counted off.

Three.

Two.

One.

And the chaos began. Only a few tributes completely fleed the corncopia; Charlotte was one of them. She sprinted straight for the forest, and then she went in search of water. She found it easier than I did, and weaved together a container to hold it in. She was exceptionally resourceful. However, she wasted no time, and continued to distance herself from the pack.

Not much time was spent on her though because back at the cornicopia, people were being killed right and left. Someone would turn and get stabbed with a spear, and the person who stabbed them would get a knife in the back. It was complete chaos as kids straggled up the slippery beast. Only a few packs of food were found, and the Careers quickly snatched those. One girl was very successful in climbing the giant steel mountain; she was lithe like a dancer. She was also allied with the Careers. She handed out the supplies to her "friends," keeping her favorite weapon with her-a small, but deadly knife. The way she held it with admiration felt wrong and lethal; fourteen year-old girls should not hold a weapon with such...eagerness.

I loved my bow, but for hunting, for feeding my family. Not for killing people. But I couldn't think about that. If I am to save Peeta, I must do whatever it takes to win. That means being at my strongest and ignoring any friendships I may make to stay completely loyal to Peeta. That's why I was so opposed to an alliance. I did not want to have a reason to owe someone; I did not want to lose a friend. I did not want to kill a friend. And most of all, I did not want to fail Peeta.

The games continued as normal. When the bloodbath finally ceased, thirteen cannons sounded off. Eleven tributes were left. That's when things got very interesting. Without a weapon, it seemed Charlotte's death was inevitable. She began to do something I thought was insane. She started looking through the rocks near a pond; eventually, she found one she liked. It was long and very skinny. After that, Char started rubbing the stone against a larger rock. A loud, screeching sound was produced. She seemed on edge as she did this, but no one appeared to be close enough to hear. No one came to kill her.

When she was satisfied with the sharpiness of her blade, she weaved some fine grass together like a ribbon. There was a bush of berries next to her, and she scooped them up immediately. I raised my eyebrows recognizing them as a poisonous berry. I couldn't remember the name, but I knew two things: 1) it wasn't nightlock, 2) it wasn't edible. However, she did not plop those dangerous berries into her mouth. Instead, she popped them open, and painted some small pebbles with the dark pink colored juice. She dipped the super skinny blade in the berry juice, and fixed the pebbles, ribbon, and blade into a sort of hair band. She pulled back half of her hair, locking it in place with her newly designed head piece. I snorted. Was she crazy? She was worrying about her _hair_ in a time like this? She didn't have weapon, but at least she had something to pull back her hair with. Absolutely ridiculous. I rolled my eyes. Here I thought she was going to be resourceful and actually make herself a knife, and all she did was make a deadly hair pin. How would that help, anything? When would she get close enough for that itty-bitty blade to work?

I leaned back, doubting how this girl ever won these games. Just when I was resolved that all she did was wait it out, she started a fire. Not only did she start a fire, but she started one at_ night_. I was sure she was a complete idiot. Suddenly a big, burly guy barreled through the trees. He was followed by the rest of the Career pack. Char seemed indifferent. She went about her business, cleaning up the berries and stones. She waded into the stream, and almost waited for the guy to see her. He spun around, fiercely wielding his sword. He charged toward Charlotte.

She raised an eyebrow, "Wait a second." To my surprise, he stopped. He did not lower his sword, but he paused, waiting for her to speak. I guess he owed his kill that much. The Careers behind him stopped as well, waiting for his command.

Charlotte raised up her hands, and walked out of the water. The big brute tensed. She raised her eyebrow again, "I don't have a weapon, you know. I ran straight here."

He nodded. She was now about three feet away from him. She bit her lip, and looked him up and down, lingering a little here and there. He shifted feet a little, focusing on her eyes. "You can kill me, but I'd prefer to have a little..._privacy_," Charlotte glanced at the Careers behind him, "I'd rather not have an audience, Leo."

"What if I don't trust you? Why shouldn't I kill you now?"

"I don't know," she walked forward. "Maybe you should find out..." she trailed off as she trailed her fingertips over his chest. Leo's eyebrow raised.

"But it's up to you," she dropped her hand, and turned around giving Leo a mysterious smirk.

Leo seemed dazed. He turned around to his allies, who gave him questioning looks. Leo waved them on, which received some protest from the lithe female. She glared at him, "What are you-"

"Look," he said, "I'm perfectly capable of handling this on my own. Go find some food, or hunt someone else. I will meet you at the lake." There was no arguing with his superior tone.

The girl shot daggers with her eyes at Charlotte, who sniffled a smile. Once the Careers left, Leo turned back around to Charlotte. He walked up behind her and dropped his sword. It was obvious that Leo was the strongest, and he could easily overthrow her if she tried anything.

Charlotte slowly turned around, and smiled mysteriously again. "I'm glad you decided to give us some..._alone time_." This situation was bizarre. I was stunned, and captivated.

He smiled, and she stared at his lips. Her fingers trailed up his chest again and she leaned in and whispered, "I think you need to frisk me."

He pulled her back, confused. "To make sure I'm clean," she finished playfully. I realized she was completely flirting with her attacker.

Leo pulled her closer, and ran his large hands all over her body. His hands rested on her waist, as she threw hers around his neck. They leaned in together for a kiss.


	5. Chapter 5: Understanding the Enemy

Chapter 5

I gasped, hitting pause, "What the he-"

"I know, right," a deep voice said from behind me. I jumped, flinging myself around in a defensive crouch. It was just Peeta.

I relaxed, "Gosh, Peeta, don't do that!"

He smirked, "Sorry."

Peeta sat down beside me, and we stared in silence at the paused scene on the TV. There was a quiet tension left from unresolved issues. I wasn't sure if Peeta was still angry with me. He might've just come out here because he couldn't sleep...without me. Or maybe he came out because he knew I was in here. I hoped that at least now that he realized I was trying to give Charlotte a chance, he would be a little more forgiving.

It turns out I had nothing to worry about. Peeta is the best person I have ever known. "Katniss...I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost it earlier-"

"No, Peeta. I'm sorry. You're right, we are a team, and that means we have to compromise." I reached my hand out for his, and he shifted closer to me.

We held each other for awhile, until he sighed. "I wish that-that there was a way for everything to be okay. I wish I could-"

"Get me home?" I guessed, rolling my eyes. He sighed. "Peeta-"

"No, Katniss," it was almost a growl. We both sighed, resigned.

"Okay, well, what the heck is this?" I said gesturing towards the TV.

Peeta smirked, "You haven't seen her games have you?"

I shook my head. "How-why-I can't even believe what's going on right now."

"I know, I couldn't believe it myself. It's very surprising how..._effective_ her methods are," Peeta said as he grabbed for the remote. I'm not sure why, but the way Peeta said that bothered me. I hoped her methods would not be_ effective_ on him. Peeta pressed play, and we were pulled into the confusing cross between a dreamworld and a nightmare where two people stopped to makeout before killing each other.

The kiss continued until Leo pulled back, contemplating. It was like he was fighting himself-kill her or kiss her? Tough decision. A decision was made in his eyes, and his next move affirmed my inference. He swung his muscular arm leading his clenched fist toward her fragile-looking cheek bone, but before he even got halfway there, she had slid out of the way. Charlotte danced around him, lithely, as he swiped in her direction. Leo always missed; he never came close. Char was too flexible and fast. Eventually, Leo paused to just stare at her.

Char preyed upon the moment, "And here I thought we were having a nice time."

Leo grunted, obviously worn out from his unsuccessful swing attempts. Char was swinging something else-her hips. She still danced around slightly without any provocation. Leo's eyes lingered slightly, but then, as if he was having a mental battle with himself, he snapped out of it. He shifted his eyes upward, just above the top of her head. Char noticed, and pulled them back down by advancing towards him. Leo did not crouch defensively, he just stared at her, wondering. Char held her hands out, palms upward, and laughed as she approached.

"I don't have a weapon. I've told you that, Leo. There's no reason to fear me, or to hurt me...at least right now."

"Yes there is," he said. I glanced up at Peeta's face to see if he was as absorbed and confused as I was. His eyes were fixated on the television screen, so I returned my own.

Charlotte was just a step away from Leo, and her hand reached out toward him. It was shaking slightly. I assumed Leo would slap it away, but he just kept completely still. When her hand grazed his face, he moved in. Once again, they were kissing, and once again I was mystified. This one scene, this one act, was so..._wrong_. It was so completely against _everything_ everyone knows about the games. It wasn't an alliance, it wasn't a friendship, it wasn't a romance...it was...two people acting out of pure _lust_. Lust that had been surfaced out of the death sentence looming overhead. This act was not a means to stay alive. It wasn't like Peeta and I's romance used to attract sponsors, or the Careers alliance used to pick off weaker opponents. No, this act was one of an impersonal unity that was separate from reality. It did not appear to be a strategy to survive. It was just a kiss. It was a promise. But a promise of death. It was...the dying wish of a tribute. Somehow that simple kiss entwined hope and submission and failure and longing and the inevitable.

I knew the audience would've been eating it up. I peeked up at Peeta. Obviously, _we_ were eating it up.

"Crazy, right?" Peeta asked, a smile on lips. I nodded, giving him a wide-eyed look of disbelief. "Just wait, it gets even better."

I turned my attention back to the television. When the kiss broke, Leo didn't move away this time. Instead, he dove back in for Char's lips. He was aggressive and assertive, and she molded and shifted into him. Char didn't assert the continuation of the kisses, but she added to them. She added a mix of longing and desperation, of desire and lust. It was a promise of more to come that Leo obviously couldn't resist. He slammed her against a tree in what might have been an attempt to knock her out, except he continued to kiss her. She pulled him tighter, moving her lips to his neck, egging him on. He groaned. They slid down the tree in a somewhat graceful nature. Charlotte had locked her grip on him as if her life depended on it. The way they attacked each other's bodies, I was starting to get concerned about how far they might go. I also wondered what Peeta meant when he said it gets better because if he meant...well, that is just sick.

As if to affirm my suspicions, Leo started grabbing the bottom of Char's shirt. She was on top of him, and sat up to slide off her dark blue t-shirt with ease. She wore a lacy black bra that was definitely not part of the protocol uniform. I wondered if her stylists were getting slammed for that, but probably not. This was making great TV, although it probably wasn't appropriate for the _family_ audiences. Charlotte leaned back down to rip of Leo's shirt, and met his lips again. It was a hungry kiss; a kiss begging for more, for a chance.

I sighed, leaning back, wondering how long this would go on because it definitely made me feel uncomfortable. I can only imagine what the two tribute's families were thinking. How embarrassing...and Char's little siblings? What would they think? Surely, they'd be watching. Why would she do something so...inappropriate? And what happened to "winning at all cost" like she'd promised? This seemed more like relishing your last moments before you gave up. Pathetic.

Peeta squeezed my hand, sensing my discomfort. I remembered how he'd said I was pure, and a scowl crossed my face. Is that why he hadn't shown me this tape before? I clenched my jaw. I am completely capable of handling this.

The make-out scene escalated until Leo remained in only his underwear. He fingered the zipper on Char's pants. I scowled some more. A thought lingered in my mind. Charlotte is the winner. Someone, some way, by some miracle she escapes Leo. She makes it out of this alive. That's the only thing that made me keep watching. It was really getting out of hand, and I couldn't imagine having to watch one of the District 12 tributes do something like this.

Charlotte tore her lips from Leo's tight hold, and giggled lightly. She sat up a little higher on him, smiling. He laughed too, unzipping her pants. As he was preoccupied, she reached up behind her head. She undid her hair, pulling the pin out. Char giggled again. She seemed so clueless and girly. I nearly forgot what that hair pin meant. I nearly forgot that she wasn't weaponless, and that that hair pin was indeed very dangerous. Leo still concentrated on Charlotte's pants, and she clenched her pin in a fist. In a blur, that was so fast the whole motion was almost lost on me, she brought her hand down on Leo's chest. When she pulled back again, Leo's face mirrored my shock. There was a tiny hole directly over his heart where Char had stabbed him. He realized this too late because she stabbed him once more, digging deeper, before he could throw her off of him.

But I knew it was too late. She had expertly poisoned that pin. It was deadly the second it entered his skin. The toxin set in as Leo stumbled around, grabbing at air as he screamed at Charlotte, "You-you tramp! You filthy piece of scum! You're just a slut! A dirty filthy stupid slutty-" He tripped over his sword, almost falling to the ground. Recognition crossed his face as he bent to retrieve his weapon. Then he was slashing at Char as she danced around him, with a more concentrated effort this time. They were both still nearly naked. A steady flow of blood streamed down Leo's chest. It was only a matter of time before he dropped, and Char seemed to realize this. He shouted names at her, but his movements got slower. Eventually, he couldn't hold his sword and soon after his knees buckled. He tumbled to the ground, cursing Char's name. Hesitantly, she moved closer to him. His body twitched, wanting to take out his revenge on her. Leo's breaths shortened and his lungs worked harder. A bead of sweat rolled across his forehead. When his body went numb and only his eyes were alive, she sat down beside him.

Charlotte grabbed for his hand, which I thought was an odd gesture. Hadn't she just seduced this guy and then killed him? His eyes protested, but his body was no longer under his control. She looked down on him, sadly. She whispered, "I'm so sorry."

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. I snorted. Char protested, "No, really. I am. I didn't want to do this. I've never wanted to do this. But you have to do what you have to do to survive. I want you to know that I am sorry and that I only did this for my brothers and sisters. They need me. I promised-" her voice wavered. "I promised I'd return to them. I promised I would win-at all costs. And I will. I have to. I'm sorry that it means you can't go home. I'm so...sorry." Her voice broke off and the cannon sounded. She let one tear roll down her face as she passed her hand over his eyes, closing them.

Abruptly, she stood up. I figured she had a few hours until the Careers came looking for her. They assumed that the cannon was for her, but when Leo didn't show up at the lake...They would go looking for him. Tonight, they would know, that he had died and Charlotte had not. They would know she killed him. Charlotte searched the ground and picked up her pin. She pulled back her hair again, securing the pin. I had underestimated her. She was smarter and more resourceful than I had anticipated. Although I didn't approve of her...unorthodox methods, I couldn't deny the results. I understood that she had to get home. I understood her duty to her family, to her brothers and sisters. Finally, Char retrieved her t-shirt and pants. She also stole a jacket from Leo. She rummaged through his bag of supplies, taking what she wanted. Then, she picked up his sword. She contemplated. Charlotte had proven that her hair pin was an effective weapon, but it obviously had limitations. I figured the sword was more practical, and she could soak that in poison as well. Char almost placed the weapon beside Leo, but had a sudden second thought. She attached it to her belt, and sauntered back to her river.

For now, she had time, but soon they would come. Soon, they would hunt her. I knew what that was like, but I also knew that somehow she made it through everything. She survived these cruel games. She won. Maybe she wouldn't be such a bad ally after all. She sure seemed okay when she apologized for killing Leo. I hadn't apologized to my first kill, but he had killed Rue, so he didn't deserve it. However, Char had a cruel, evil, savage way of killing. She preyed on her victim, luring him in, and when she was sure he was hooked,she pounced. Still, I had a new respect for her. It still didn't make me like her. I still didn't really want her as my ally. But I kind of respected her. I kind of understood her. And that was a good start.


	6. Chapter 6: Games and Tricks

Chapter 6: Games and Tricks

Peeta paused the games, waiting for my reaction. I looked up at him, relaxing into his strong chest.

"It's crazy," I mumbled. "It goes against...everything."

"I know," Peeta was excited. I recalled what he had said to me before our first games about not being a "piece in their games." Somehow, Charlotte was rebelling against everything about their games, yet was playing exactly how they wanted. She was a cold-blooded killer; she had an impersonal relationship that she used to ensnare her victims. She had turned into a monster. However, she was still there. She was still herself; she had apologized. There was a sorrow and a despair as if not only Leo's life, but part of her own was lost. It was as if she was apologizing for what she had become, now that she was back to being her human self.

Somehow Charlotte defied the unspoken line drawn by the Districts. It reminded me of the crazy man who had killed him victims by devouring their flesh, except he did not win, and he was dubbed mentally unstable. But Char was completely fine. She had deliberately sought out her victims, but it was all part of a very inteligently-designed plan. Char killed someone in a cruel, evil way in her right mind. She had crossed the line. I was sure that the Districts were just shocked and appalled when they saw this live. Sure, everyone understood that you did you had to do in the games to survive. However, there was just nothing like this. It was...unprecedented.

She didn't stop there, either. She crossed the line drawn by the Capital. They wanted her to be this ferocious, vicious, cold-hearted monster. They wanted her to kill with no remorse, to plot and give the audience something to watch. But they didn't want her to feel anything for the tributes; the Capital wanted to turn the tributes against each other. They wanted to change children into killers. But Charlotte didn't play by anyone's rules. She had shown us her heartless, ruthless side, then turned around to feel remorse and anguish. She was sincerely sorry for what she had done to Leo. Charlotte was not a piece in anybody's games; she was playing her own game. She made up her own rules.

Peeta and I continued watching Charlotte's games. We watched as she targeted and seduced the male tributes, one by one, and skillfully avoided all the female tributes. Char easily seduced the men, for there were no boys younger than 15, with the way she twisted and twirled her body; she was a fabulous dancer, that much was obvious. But I could tell that her gift had been corrupted, for now it was used in a purely sexual manor. It was almost sad to see such a gift squandered.

The really astonishing aspect of it all was how efficiently Charlotte's tactics worked. The men fell at her feet. It was appalling and grotesque. How weak were these men? They would risk their lives for a moment of meaningless... I shuddered. Is that all that boys thought about? Were they all so vile and-and perverted? Was the sole thought in their minds sex? A scary thought entered my mind as I remembered Peeta sitting beside me. Could he be subject to such methods? Would Char try to work her..._charms_ on him? And worse, _could_ she? Was he susceptible to her? Or did his...love for me override any other advances?

I looked up at the man beside me, and when his bright blue eyes smiled down at me I knew that he couldn't ever be corrupted. He just-couldn't. Peeta was my rock. If he was defeated by his primal urges like the other men, then everything I knew would be completely turned upsidedown. I reached up and lightly grazed his cheek with my fingers. He leaned into my palm, his blue eyes boring into my own brown ones. Then, he leaned in slightly and just barely stopped himself short. But I knew what he was thinking and for once, I wanted the same thing he did. I covered the rest of the distance and our lips met. Suddenly I needed him. I needed this boy next to me and I needed to know that he would always need me. Our lips met and I felt that hunger in the pit of my stomach. The yearning overwhelmed me as I pressed him closer to me. I entwined my fingers in the hair on the back of his neck, and his hands, resting on my waist, pulled me tighter. My lips parted letting him in, and we locked in that embrace until we were forced to come up for air. But I never let go of him, and his lips never left my body. They trailed down my neck and then back up again to meet my eager lips. My force pushed Peeta down on the couch until I was on top of him. I yearned for more-more of him. I just couldn't get enough. I pulled him closer and closer and it wasn't enough. His hands trailed along my body hugging my hips, tugging at the bottom of my shirt as they slid up my waist, and they lightly grazed over my breasts. Then Peeta rested one hand in my hair and one hand on the skin exposed on the small of back.

I didn't know when or if the madness would stop. The fire burning inside of me demanded more of Peeta. That's when Peeta shifted to get a better grip on me, and accidentally hit the remote. The games began to play again, and I remembered what I had been watching moments before. Why, all of the sudden, was I so...fixated on Peeta? Did I really want this or was I somehow jealous of Charlotte? Was it some subconscious experiment-to see what it was like to seduce a boy? Was it Charlotte's words haunting me even still, "I always thought he'd be a good...lover?" and worse, "Do you guys ever try...body painting?" Now I understood why she had been so vulgar before...she'd done far worse on live television in front of the entire world. I shivered, pulling away from Peeta. I did not know what my sudden urge was, but now it didn't feel right. If I was going to be with Peeta, I had to be sure it wasn't out of some other influence. I was completely turned off, and super embarrassed. What was I-an animal? I mean I literally just attacked him!

And now, what would Peeta think? Would he think I loved him? Would he think I wanted him? Would he think...this meant something? And more importantly-did it? Or was I just carelessly messing with his feelings...again? I really needed to stop having one on one time with boys who were in love with me because I honestly had no clue what to do about them...and somehow I always seemed to end up kissing them! I blushed looking at Peeta apologetically as I worked my off of his body. I giggled slightly as I almost tripped over him, and he chuckled. I could tell he was a little confused, but didn't want to press it. He helped me sit upright, and never let go of my hand. I glanced up at his face to see if I could get some insight on his thoughts, but I could observe nothing. I sighed, leaning back into him, and squeezing his hand. I focused back on the television, and just in time...

Finally the girl had caught up to Charlotte. There were only five tributes left, and they were all female. Two were battling it out now, while one was escaping a rapidly spreading fire. Charlotte and the girl were completely alone. Char had been smart to keep the sword, now it would come in handy. The girl snarled as she approached, knife ready.

"Vixie, how nice it is to see you again. It has been awhile, hasn't it?" Charlotte began, drawing her stolen sword out. In response, Vixie just growled, narrowing her eyes.

"Aw are you still upset over the whole Leo-thing? I mean, you don't honestly think that you two could've been together, do you? The way I see it-you should be thanking me. I did what you could have never done. I got him out of the way for you," Char taunted.

Vixie growled, bearing her teeth and lunging forward a bit. Char smirked, "Your welcome."

Vixie lunged forward stabbing and retreating like a practiced surgeon. Charlotte dodged each blow gracefullly. The pair had the grace and agility to leap and twirl out of the way of each other's blows. They made it look easy, but I wondered how long it could last. I knew that they would eventually tire, and then a swing would bring the fatal blow. One of these girls was going to die. Neither of them would walk away alive. The rules were clear. I had to remind myself, as Charlotte nearly got her brain pierced, that Char won. The battle continued and I realized that Charlotte was a much better fighter than I had ever given her credit for. I mean sure she was extremely smart and clearly had outwitted her opponents. And yes, she had used her body as a weapon, and in a new inventive way that none of the tributes had ever, EVER thought of before. I shuddered. However, I had never actually seen her fight with a real weapon. I had never seen her fight in an equal standing where she wasn't already on top of her opponent...literally. But now as I watched I realized that she was very talented and skilled. She probably could have gotten by with just being that great of a fighter...although, she may not have won. She surely would not have been so effective in killing off all the men. I understood that she was not going to bet or rely on her talent. No, Charlotte had come with the idea to "win at all costs" and that was what she was going to do. She was going to put herself in the best position possible to win. That was what she had done the entire games. Charlotte did not take big risks. She played the game very safely, actually, but this was disguised by her...unorthodox methods.

Vixie was slowing down, and Charlotte baited her in with slow moments. Vixie was tiring, and each time she swung, Char easily avoided it. The opponent was wearing down, and that's when Charlotte struck. She blocked Vixie's swing, and flew her sword across, swiping at Vixie's arm. Char grimaced as the girl screamed. But she didn't let it stop her. Charlotte worked meticulously, stabbing and jabbing until she had opened nearly fifteen wounds on Vixie. For Vixie's credit, she never gave up. She fought hard, but it wasn't good enough. Charlotte had the upperhand with all the stamina. I saw it coming before it happened. When Char's arm went back, and Vixie couldn't get her footing, I winced. The sword swung through and slashed a deep wound that had Vixie clutching her stomach. Then, Char grimly stabbed Vixie in the chest.

Charlotte swallowed, relaxing for the first time. She fell to her knees, exhaused, and stared intently at Vixie, whose breath was shallowing. Char slid closer, but made sure the weapons were far out of reach. Vixie started to swirm, but winced in agony and was forced to lay still.

"I'm sorry, Vixie," Charlotte said sounding sweet and sincere. It was hard to believe that this was the same girl who had just been smack-talking minutes ago.

In response, the dying girl uttered a low guttural growl. Char gave a half-hearted smile, "I am, though. I really am. I wish-I just wish it didn't have to be like this. I wish that we didn't have to kill each other." She sighed, as Vixie's breaths stopped.

"But we do," Char whispered to herself, closing Vixie's eyes kindly with her fingertips.

Three cannons went off. Only one girl other than Charlotte was alive. However, the real battle had already happened. Char vs. Vixie was always the expected finale. Somehow it had come a little early, but it didn't change that those were the two strongest players. It just made for a less fantastic finale...something I'm sure the Capitol was going to be irritated about.

The finale lasted too long and was too uneventful. The two girls were forced together by various "natural" disasters. Charlotte eventually pierced the girl with her sword and she died in the same manor of, but with less dignity than Vixie. Charlotte was named the winner. Everything happened too fast.

The television flashed to the Capitol again for Charlotte's final interview with Caesar. She was dazzling. There were no scars or bruises or any evidence of her time the games. She was the radiant, sexy girl that she had been at the beginning. But now, there was a darker twist. Her makeup accented her eyes and turned them a little sinister. Her bright red lips were upturned in a micheviously terrifying smirk. Her long dark wavy hair was so black it was nearly blue as it curled wickedly around the small of her back. Her outfit was a long, fitted sparkly dress. It was red-the color of blood, but lines of black outlined her every curve. The dress had cutouts just above Char's hips, cutting into the waist, showing off her skinny figure. The dress was sleeveless, and came all the way up to nearly her neck. At first, the dress appeared to be extremely conservative for Charlotte's designers, but upon a closer look I saw the deep slash down the front of her dress that came just short of the cut-outs. The slash generously exposed her cleavage. Charlotte looked sophisticated and intelligent. She was wise and in command, but she was still the sexy girl that the crowd was in love with. She was dark and powerful and dangerous. Her brilliant smile shone as she glided her way across the stage to sit across from Caesar.

"Wow! Charlotte! You look...amazing!" Caesar said hugging her and kissing her on both cheeks-the standard greeting.

"Aw, thanks Caesar! You look great too!" She said returning the affection.

"Well, let's get started, shall we?" They both sat down, and Caesar began, "So...you won!" The crowd laughed and Charlotte giggled.

"Yes, yes I did," she smiled. "And it wasn't easy either."

"Oh, we know! Don't we?" Caesar flashed a smile at the audience. "So...you know, we've all been wondering about your-"

"My, um, rather..._disturbing_ methods?" She laughed. "I just...that's the only weapon I had. That's the only way I knew I could ensure my survival, and I had to get out. Like I said I was going to win-at all costs."

Caesar chuckled, a little nervously it appeared, "Yes, you did say that. And it looks like you did just that! You won! But I know that we were all pretty shocked the first time...tell me, what was going through your head when you were with Leo?"

Charlotte blushed, but I thought it was fake, "Well, I just-I had noticed him looking at me during training, you know. And so that's kind of where I got this whole idea. So when he showed up, I got really scared because it was like "here's my opportunity" but I was afraid it wasn't going to work. I just tried to get him alone, and then after that I just tried to seduce him. I mean, I just knew it was life or death. The whole time I was so worried about how easily he could've just grabbed my neck and squeezed and I would be done for. I was so...scared..."

The interview went on and I wasn't sure what to believe. Charlotte had provided so many different personalities. She was so many different people, and I couldn't tell which one was the real her. Was it all an act? Even when Peeta and I met her today in training was that an act? I just couldn't trust her. I couldn't believe her. She hid behind a mask of lies and deceit and tricks. After watching the entire games, I knew it was now my time to decide what I thought about Char-especially as an ally. But I just didn't trust her. How could I? How could I ever know who she really was or what she was really after? How could I put Peeta's life in her hands? No. No, I would not. I could not. I could not trust her with Peeta. That was it. I had given her a chance and watched her games. I'd compromised, but now I was done. She was not going to be my ally. That was it; end of story. I looked up at Peeta, and as he searched my eyes I knew what he saw.

"Okay," he said.

"Okay?"

"Okay, no, we won't be her ally."

I relaxed against Peeta. He turned off the TV, and we both eventually fell asleep together on the couch. My only nightmare consisted of Charlotte seducing Peeta. I woke up right when she was about to stab him in the heart with her deadly hair pin.


	7. Chapter 7: Sun

_**Disclaimer: I took direct excerpts from Suzanne Collins' **_**Catching Fire**_**. I obviously do not own them. However, I don't really own anything except Charlotte. I go in and out from quotes to my original writing. I hope I made it pretty clear. (:** _

Chapter 7: Sun

I screamed and jerked forward just as Charlotte was about to stab Peeta in the heart.

"Mornin' to you too, sweetheart," Haymitch grumbled.

My heart was racing, and I was breathing heavily. I looked at Peeta, who was staring at me with nervous, caring eyes. I sighed. He was okay. He was mine and he was okay. No one would be killing Peeta anytime soon. Not on my watch.

Peeta stared at me with an unspoken question, "You okay?"

I nodded, and gave a slight smile as we both scrambled to stand up.

"Rise and shine! Get up, up, up! It's time to go! Eat some breakfast! Oh, Katniss, look what you've done! You've neglected your beauty sleep and now look! Bags under your eyes. Tsk, tsk, tsk. You, too, Peeta. That's unacceptable! You two have some very important days ahead of you-you need all the sleep you can get!" Effie bobbed around the table ushering Peeta and I into our chairs, as we yawned lazily.

Effie was right. We need to get more sleep, and on comfortable beds, not a couch. My neck was still pretty sore from the weird angle it was at all night. I reached under the table. Peeta's hand was already waiting for mine. If I was going to protect Peeta, I needed to get a good night's sleep. And getting sleep, meant Peeta and I had to sleep together. Otherwise, my nightmares would be unbearable. Peeta and I could not afford to be at odds during this, our darkest hour. We had to be united.

We ate breakfast in a daze. Then, I took a shower, and got dressed.

_(Insert from Catching Fire page 234)_

The final day of training ends with our private sessions. We each get fifteen minutes before the Gamemakers to amaze them with our skills, but I don't know what any of us might have to show them. There's a lot of kidding about it at lunch. What we might do. Sing, dance, strip, tell jokes. Mags, who I can understand a little better now decides she's just going to take a nap.

_(My own writing)_

Charlotte smirked at the idea of stripping and dancing. I could imagine what moves she would show the Gamemakers.

_(Insert from Catching Fire page 234)_

I don't know what I'm going to do. Shoot some arrows, I guess. Haymitch said to surprise them if we could, but I'm fresh out of ideas.

As the girl from 12, I'm scheduled to go last. The dining room gets quieter and quieter as the tributes file out to go perform. It's easier to keep up the irreverent, invincible manner we've all adopted where there are more of us. As people disappear through the door, all I can think is that they have a matter of days to live.

Peeta and I are finally left alone. He reaches across the table to take my hands. "Decided what to do for the Gamemakers yet?"

I shake my head. "I can't really use them for target practice this year, with the force field up and all. Maybe make some fishhooks. What about you?"

"Not a clue. I keep wishing I could bake a cake or something," he says.

"Do some more camouflage," I suggest.

"If the morphlings have left me anything to work with," he says wryly. "They've been glued to that station since training started."

We sit in silence awhile and then I blurt out the thing that's on both our minds. "How are we going to kill these people, Peeta?"

"I don't know." He leans his forehead down on our entwined hands.

"I don't want them as allies. Why did Haymitch want us to get to know them?" I say. "It'll make it so much harder than last time. Except for Rue maybe. But I guess I never really could've killed her, anyway. She was just too much like Prim."

Peeta looks up at me, his brow creased in thought. "Her death was the most despicable, wasn't it?"

"None of them were very pretty," I say, thinking of Glimmer's and Cato's ends.

They call Peeta, so I wait by myself. Fifteen minutes pass. Then half an hour. It's close to forty minutes before I'm called.

When I go in, I smell the sharp odor of cleaner and notice that one of the mats has been dragged to the center of the room. The mood is very different from last year's, when the Gamemakers were half drunk and distractedly picking at tidbits from the banquet table. They whisper among themselves, looking somewhat annoyed. What did Peeta do? Something to upset them?

I feel a pang of worry. That isn't good. I don't want Peeta singling himself out as a target for the Gamemakers' anger. That's part of my job. To draw fire away from Peeta. But how did he upset them? Because I'd love to do just that and more. To break through the smug veneer of those who use their brains to find amusing ways to kill us. To make them realize that while we're vulnerable to the Capitol's cruelties, they are as well.

_Do you have any idea how much I hate you?_ I think. _You, who have given your talents to the Games?_

I try to catch Plutarch Heavenbee's eyes, but he seems to be intentionally ignoring me, as he has the entire training period. I remember how he sought me out for a dance, how pleased he was to show me teh mockingjay on hsi watch. His friendly manner has no place here. How could it, when I'm a mere tribute and he's the Head Gamemaker? So powerful, so removed, so safe...

Suddenly I know just what I'm going to do. Something that will blow anything Peeta did right out of the water. I go over to the knot-tying station and get a length of rope. I start to manipulate it, but it's hard because I've never made this actual knot myself. I've only watched Finnick's clever fingers, and they moved so fast. After about ten minutes, I"ve come up with a respectable noose. I drag one of the target dummies out into the middle of the room and, using some chinning bars, hang it so it dangles by the neck. Tying its hands behind its back would be a nice touch, but I think I might be running out of time. I hurry over to the camouflage station, where some of the other tributes, undoubtedly the morphlings, have made a colossal mess. But I find a partial container of bloodred berry juice that will serve my needs. The flesh-colored fabric of the dummy's skin makes a good, absorbent canvas. I carefully finger paint the words on its body, concealing them from view. Then I step away quickly to watch the reaction on the Gamemakers' faces as they read the name on the dummy.

_Seneca Crane._

_(So I don't feel like typing up another three or four pages directly from the book... but we all know what happens... she goes to dinner and Katniss tells her team what happened and we figure out what Peeta did. They were both really reckless. Everyone is shocked and no one approves. Blah blah blah.)_

_(Insert from page 241 & 242)_

"And, Haymitch?" says Peeta. "We decided we don't want any other allies in the arena."

"Good. Then I won't be responsible for you killing off any of my friends with your stupidity," he says.

"That's just what we were thinking," I tell him.

We finish the meal in silence, but when we rise to go into the sitting room, Cinna puts his arm around me and gives me a squeeze. "Come on and let's go get those training scores."

We gather around the television set and a red-eyed Effie rejoins us. The tributes' faces come up, district by district, and their scores flash under their pictures. One through twelve. Predictably high scores for Cashmere, Gloss, Brutus, Enobaria, and Finnick.

_(My addition)_

Charlotte pulls an eight.

_(Insert from page 242)_

Low to medium for the rest.

"Have they ever given a zero?" I ask.

"No, but there's a first time for everything," Cinna answers.

And it turns out he's right. Because when Peeta and I each pull a twelve, we make Hunger Games history. No one feels like celebrating, though.

_(Back to my own writing)_

Peeta and I go back to my room. I don't let go of his hand. I can't. I endangered him by my actions. Now the other tributes will target us.

He starts to walk away, but we both know that's not going to happen. I wrap my arms around him, and he pulls me closer. We stand there embracing for awhile, until we hear a shuffling in the nearby dining area. If it's Haymitch, he'll never let me live this down. If it's Effie, she'll try to seperate Peeta and I. I can't let that happen. I pull open my door, still holding Peeta's hand, and lead him to my bed.

As we curl up on the bed, Peeta says, "I think what I did just made things worse for us."

It was almost magical how we had both done such reckless, rebellious acts in front of the Gamemakers. You would think we had planned it, but we didn't. Not at all. I respected Peeta so much more now. I appreciated the fact that he was beside me. Him just standing by my side was a sort of rebellion. We should not both be alive. I was so grateful that I was not alone in this war against the Capitol. Peeta supported me. He stood beside me. He hates the Capitol just as much as I do, and he's not afraid to show it. Peeta never ceases to amaze me.

"Well, I didn't really help either," I reply.

We chuckle, but it's not really funny. I think about my impending death. I know that President Snow probably gave direct orders to kill us both in the arena, but maybe just maybe they would let Peeta survive. After all, I'm the one who pulled out the berries. And no one has ever questioned Peeta's motives and love for me. He was the best person I knew.

He should be the one to survive. And I'm not just saying this because last time Haymitch tried to save me. I'm not saying this because Peeta is a better person than me. Although he really, truly is. I'm saying this because Peeta would be a better leader. He could lead the rebellion that this world needs. He could fire up the Districts with his igniting and inspiring words. He could twist his speech into a persuasive beautiful fashion that perpetually wowwed the listeners. I, however, would never be able to lead people. I could never give a motivational speech. Peeta was the one who made me desirable in my interviews. There was nothing I could say that would make people follow or love me. But the way Peeta spoke...was a pure, firelit brilliance.

I relax into Peeta's chest. How can I feel so safe in his arms when I know in less than 48 hours I will be in an arena fighting to my death? I close my eyes, feeling the realness of the Quell. It is overwhelming to think about killing these people I know and some I have befriended. I wince trying to block out all the painful thoughts.

(page 244)

"So what should we do with our last few days?"

"I just want to spend ever possible minute of the rest of my life with you,"Peeta replies.

...It feels like such a luxury, sleeping with Peeta again. I didn't realize until now how starved I've been for human closeness. For the feel of him beside me in the darkness. I wish I hand't wasted the last couple of nights shutting him out. I sink down into sleep, enveloped in his warmth, and when I open my eyes again, daylight's streaming through the windows.

"No nightmares," he says.

"No nightmares," I confirm. "You?"

"None. I'd forgotten what a real night's sleep feels like," he says.

We lie there for a while, in no rush to begin the day. Tomorrow night will be the televised interview, so today Effie and Haymitch should be coaching us. More high heels and sarcastic comments, I think. But then the redheaded Avox girl comes in with a note from Effie saying that, given our recent tour, both she and Haymitch have agreed we can handle ourselves adequately in public. The coaching sessions have been cancelled.

"Really?" says Peeta, taking the note from my hand and examining it. "Do you know what this means? We'll have the whole day to ourselves."

"It's too bad we can't go somewhere," I say wistfully.

"Who says we can't?" he asks.

The roof. We order a bunch of food, grab some blankets, and head up to the roof for a picnic. A daylong picnic in the flower garden that tinkles with wind chimes. We eat. We lie in the sun. I snap off hanging vines and use my newfound knowledge form training to practice knots and weave nets. Peeta sketches me. We make up a game with the force field that surrounds the roof-one of us throws an apple into it and the other person has to catch it.

No one bothers us. By late afternoon, I lie with my head on Peeta's lap, making a crown of flowers while he fiddles with my hair, claiming he's practicing his knots. After a while, his hands go still. "What?" I ask.

"I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever," he says.

Usually this sort of comment, the kind that hints of his undying love for me, makes me feel guilty and awful. But I feel so warm and relaxed and beyond worrying about a future I'll never have, I just let the word slip out. "Okay."

I can hear the smile in his voice. "Then you'll allow it?"

"I'll allow it," I say.

His fingers go back to my hair and I doze off, but he rouses me to see the sunset. It's a spectacular yellow and orange blaze behind the skyline of the Capitol. "I didn't think you'd want to miss it," he says.

"Thanks," I say. Because I can count on my fingers the number of sunsets I have left, and I don't want to miss any of them.

(back to my own writing)

I look up at Peeta who is gazing dreamily at the beautiful orange and pink swirl. I smile and focus my attention back on the sky. This moment really is perfect. We watch as the sun sinks lower and lower into the sky until darkness fades around us. I close my eyes and Peeta sighs contentedly.

I'm just about to fall asleep again when a light flickers on.


	8. Chapter 8: Bloody Cannibal

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the songs that are sung later on in this chapter (I don't want to spoil the surprise). No dip I don't own them...their singers/songwriters/producers do. (: Just like I do not own the characters here except Charlotte...because she is **_**mine._ Hehe_**

Chapter 8: Bloody Cannibal

Katniss

My eyes flew open. I scrambled off of Peeta's lap, my heart racing. My head swiveled around taking in the bright array of lights scattered about the rooftop. I spot the intruder from my crouch. I start to relax, but then I think better of it.

"Hello," Charlotte smiles. "So sorry to interupt."

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

She gives a face of mock surprise, "What? No 'Hey, how are you?'" She pauses expectantly, but smirks when I don't answer.

Peeta says, "Hello, Charlotte. I think what Katniss meant was that she was surprised that you were able to get up here...it's not really near your floor."

Charlotte laughs, taking steps toward us. "Oh, honey, I told you-call me Char. And the rooftop doesn't belong to you! It's a public area."

Peeta and I nod. I'm not too happy for our perfect moment to be interupted. I guess it was just a bad omen. We wouldn't have any moments like this in the games. I shouldn't have gotten so wrapped up in this one.

Peeta, "So...what have you been doing all day?"

Char made a face, "Working. This is my first moment to myself and I had to sneak away."

I say, "You're mentor is that pushy?"

Char looks at me, "What? Wirus? No way. She's so cool. No, it's the freaking Capitol. All they do is use me."

Peeta and I look at each other. We may appear to be relatively alone up here, but no doubt someone was watching us. Char shouldn't say these kinds of comments aloud. I knew very well what President Snow was capable of if you made yourself an enemy. Any sort of rebellious action or attitude would get you a spot on his most wanted list.

Charlotte just grinned at us, giggling and shaking her head. She obviously knew what our raised eyebrows meant. Then she sobered a bit, "It's true though. All they do. Use me, use me, use me." She spat.

"But that's why I'm here. You guys caught me...I was here to see you."

"Did Haymitch tell you we have decided not to ally with anyone?" I ask.

She creased her forehead, then seemed to remember something, "Oh, oh yeah. He did. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

Peeta sits up, taking a bit of interest, "Then, what?"

Charlotte grinned, "Well...I'm planning something huge for the interview night, and-"

"What do you mean?" I jump. This sounds like trouble. We don't plan things as tributes, we just go through the motions. We are subjected to the process of the games, nothing more. We do not contribute. If we do, it's never good. It's always an act of rebellion; an act that no one at home sees because it is edited out.

Charlotte senses the concern in my voice because she backtracks, trying to ease the tension. "Well..._I'm_ not really planning it. It's more like...the Capitol planned it, but I'm..._helping_."

Peeta creases his forehead, running his hand through his hair, "What exactly is this plan?"

She smirked, "Nothing you'll be too interested in, I'm sure. Just some extra_ celebratory_ displays to get us all really psyched to kill each other off one by one!"

Her enthusiastic sarcasm rolled off her tongue dangerously. Nervously, I looked around for evidence that we were being watched, which I was positive we were. She noticed, and continued on with a more diplomatic approach, "Singing, dancing...the works. Apparently, I was just _too good_ when they showed my talent to the world. Now, the fans "just can't get enough"...or so I'm told," she rolled her eyes,"So I have to put on a concert of sorts."

Peeta wondered, "But why do you need us?"

I guessed, "I'm not singing."

She opened her mouth to respond.

"_No_. I will not sing for them."

She waved her hands dismissively, "Katniss! I'm not trying to get you to sing for them! I know you better than that."

I blinked at her. I wanted to scream,_ YOU DON'T KNOW ME! _But a look from Peeta stopped me. I took a deep breath and put a fake smile on my face.

"Okay, then what?" I was growing more and more irritated with her. Everything with Char had to be so dramatic and drawn out. Sometimes I just wanted to get to the point. Of course, I should have seen this coming. She had, after all, seduced men to their death in the arena in a rather...extravagant, detailed, dramatic form.

"Well, I'm singing and dancing. I have to have a song for each of the tributes to represent them. Since you two won last year, I get to do three songs for you. One for Katniss. One for Peeta. And one about you two as a couple."

I winced. _Oh joy, more acting. _More expressing false emotions, which makes it so much harder to decifer my true feelings.I'm about to roll my eyes, but Char's next words stop me.

"But I'm not so stupid as to think that you two are actually a real couple."

The way she says it-the flippant, obvious, bored tone-bothers me. I want to argue with her that we are. But I know we are not. We're acting...aren't we? This is all just an act. Sure, Peeta loves me. I know that now. He really does. And I feel..._something_ for him. I care about him. I'm going to save him in the games, and sacrifice myself. But do I_ love_ him? I don't know. I had chosen Gale before I knew about the Quell._ Gale_. I haven't thought about Gale since..._well_, since the Quell was announced. And I'm _not_ going to think about him again. That part of my life is over.

I realize too late that my silence probably hurt Peeta. I glance at the boy next to me, and I can see the pain in his eyes. He was watching me. A half-hearted smile crosses his lips, trying to tell me it's okay. That makes my heart ache even more. Charlotte sits down beside us. It's obvious she's broken some sort of barrier. Now she's on the inside as all our defences have crumbled down with just one sentence.

"So here's the thing," she begins, and I wish she would just shut up. Doesn't she notice the way Peeta's shoulders have hunched? "I don't tell lies."

I snort. Sure, _right._ She doesn't lie. _As if!_ What were her entire games? A huge, big, fat lie! She lied to almost every one she killed, in their face, right before she slaughtered them. She _doesn't_ lie! What a joke.

When I see Peeta shift uncomfortably, I realize the real effect her words could have. "I don't tell lies." Does that mean she won't lie about us being in love? She won't sing us a happy love song? Instead, she'll expose us to the whole world, which will ultimately end in our demises. I bite my lip.

Peeta says, "What do you intend to do, then?"

She smiles at him, "You didn't let me explain. I don't tell lies...unless I absolutely have to-like a life or death situation. Aka: the games." She directs a pointed look at me.

"But this _is_ a life or death situation! For me and Peeta...and our friends and family! You can't-" I feel the anger boiling inside me.

She shakes her head, waving me off impassively, "Yes, yes I know all about your little agreement with President Snow and the whole _Gale_ issue."

I steal a glance at Peeta, and he winces ever so slightly. I bite my lip and look down, "How?"

"Oh, honey, you think I'd write songs about every tribute without doing my research? I've watched your games about a million times. Watched the home interviews. Read reports by the head Gamemakers and President Snow from each different games. You could call me an expert...which is really_ sad_," she huffs the last part under her breath.

Peeta shoots me a glance. I know what he's thinking...If she has done all this research then she knows everyone's personalities. She knows their strengths, weaknesses, interests, tendencies... That could be some seriously powerful information. Potentially _dangerous_ information. For the first time, I am seriously threatened by Charlotte Daedalus.

Char leans back, stretching and yawning. "So you get it then? You'll lie for..._us_?" Peeta says. I notice how he hesistates on the word "us." What should be there is "lie for_ Katniss_." I'm the one who has to lie. No one questions Peeta's love for me-it is as clear as day. He doesn't have to lie. I do.

"Oh, I don't have to," she smirks looking directly at me.

"You don't?" I raise my eyebrows hopefully. Maybe, during all her research, she saw a spark of love for Peeta that I wasn't even aware of.

"Nope," she pops her lips confidently on the "p."

There is a moment of awkward silence while Peeta and I wait for her to expand on her sentence. She doesn't, though. I'm at a loss for words, so it is Peeta who speaks next, "So, what kind of song are you writing then, Char?"

Char appears to snap out of a trance-like state. She must've been deep in thought, perhaps rehearsing her, no doubt, extravagant and over the top performance tomorrow.

"Oh, um, actually," she bites her lips and broadens her mouth into a brilliant smile, "I already wrote it."

The shock registers on Peeta and I's faces. I can see the anticipation in his eyes, and see the eagerness boiling behind her pearly white teeth.

"Do you want to hear it?" she asks. We both nod, quietly, expectantly.

She grins, and stands up. "I hope you don't mind, but I need to practice my dance moves as well..."

We shrug. I figured out after watching Char's games that she must be about 22 years old. That's quite a bit older than Peeta and I, but still not out of reach..._unfortunately_. I notice that she is wearing a precariously small outfit. It's wildly decorated in shiny, dark purplish-blue gems, and has huge puffy shoulders. It's one of those weird, stylish things that the people from the Capitol always adore...a "romper." It means it's a shirt and shorts connected, which I imagine is quite uncomfortable. Char's neckline drops low as usual, and her shorts are cut off just below her rear. Somehow, Charlotte manages to wear her nine inch platform sparkling, peep-toe boots will ease. I have no idea how she dances in them! Her hair is a mass of dark curls that swirls around her perfectly made up face. Instead of her typical red lip and dark eye makeup, she wears a paler, silvery eyeshadow and lip gloss. She looks alien, unreal, unearthly.

"Ahem," she coughs and takes a deep breath. She turns to stare out into the night sky and begins, without facing us:

_But I don't care what they say_  
><em>I'm in love with you<em>  
><em>They try to pull me away<em>  
><em>But they don't know the truth<em>  
><em>My heart's crippled by the vein<em>  
><em>That I keep on closing<em>  
><em>You cut me open and I<em>

_Keep bleeding_  
><em>Keep, keep bleeding love <em>

I looked at Peeta and he looked at me. We started cracking up. It was just too ironic and funny and..._sappy_. Char heard our laughter and turned around. I tried to stifle mine to preserve her feelings. She gave us an icy cold glare, but then joined us in a huge grin. She danced around, playfully singing the rest of the number.

_I keep bleeding_  
><em>I keep, keep bleeding love<em>  
><em>Keep bleeding<em>  
><em>Keep, keep bleeding love<em>  
><em>You cut me open<em>

By this point she was on her knees, giving us the absolute most dramatic version of the song possible. It was hilarious.

"So? How'd you like it? Perfect, right?" she asks with a sly grin on her face.

Peeta grins, "Definitely the one. Just enough angst and bloodshed."

She giggles and winks at Peeta, "That's what I thought. But...just in case that one wasn't..._quite_ the song we're looking for-I prepared another number...Ahem."

_Here we go again_  
><em>We're sick like animals<em>  
><em>We play pretend<em>  
><em>You're just<em>  
><em>A cannibal<em>

I bite my lip, and look at Peeta who is smiling over at me. Somehow these stupid songs have brought us closer. He grabs my hand and I entwine our fingers together.

_And I'm afraid_  
><em>I won't get out alive<em>  
><em>I won't sleep tonight<em>

_Oh oh_  
><em>I want some<em>  
><em>More<em>  
><em>Oh oh<em>  
><em>What are you waiting for<em>  
><em>Take a bite of<em>  
><em>My heart tonight<em>

I burst out hysterically laughing which is completely inappropriate because all I can think about is the tribute who went cannibal and ate his victims. The fact that Peeta and I's "love" would be compared to cannibalism is so...Oh my gosh! It's so...true. In a way, because I am totally a terrible person to Peeta. I "bite his heart" so to speak. It dawned on me that maybe these songs weren't just random and for amusement. Maybe they were sending me a message. Charlotte of all people would understand the dynamic between Peeta and me. She's probably the only person who fully understood besides Haymitch.

But what was she saying? That I was killing Peeta by loving him? The opposite was true. I was saving him by loving him, killing him by not loving him. Maybe she meant I was hurting Peeta by dragging it out instead of being honest with my feelings. But how could I be honest. Maybe I was killing Peeta inside, hurting his spirit, his heart. But those he could regain and restore. Right now, we faced a very real threat of physical death. I couldn't afford to play around with my feelings and emotions. All I have time for is to keep him safe by acting completely in love with him. All other emotions and responses are irrelevant.

When we had successfully made fun of Charlotte, her dance moves, the terribly honest song and ourselves, Charlotte turned around again and called over her shoulder that this time she would give us a only a "taste" of the real song. She apparently did not want to spoil the surprise of the concert for us. I rolled my eyes. After that song, I could not imagine any song that she could sing that would be both truthful and romantic. I was doomed.

_**Disclaimer: So yeah. I do not own Animal by the Neon Trees or Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis. I just borrowed the lyrics for this special occasion(: I was going to put the song that Char will sing in this chapter, but then I decided that I wanted it to be a surprise...for the big interview night, which will be filled with songs. I will post a playlist. It would probably be easier for you to youtube all the songs so that you can get the true feel of how they sound. (: Songs are so hard to write into a story :/ But I need them.**_

_**PLEASE REVIEW! (: THANKS SO MUCH. I PROMISE TO HAVE MORE CHAPPIES OUT SOON...SOON...SOON. NOW THAT IT'S SUMMER I HAVE MORE TIME TO **_**update**_**! **_

_**Love, Jakilyn **_


	9. Chapter 9: Barbie Doll

**_Hey guys! So I checked my traffic stats and there's actually a lot of people who read this story! You guys just don't review much :/ I wish you would though! You have no idea how much I would appreciate it if you would just send a little comment on what you like, what you don't like, what you think should happen next, etc. I would be sooooooo happy and thankful to you guys! (: Seriously I absolutely adore feedback!_**

**_Love Jakilyn_**

Chapter 8: Barbie Doll

Charlotte

After I had messed around singing silly songs to make fun of Katniss and Peeta, I sang them one simple verse from the actual song. It was the chorus line. I was super nervous for their reaction because I wanted the song to be perfect and magical. They deserved it.

From their reactions, I think they really loved it. They were truly a very adorable couple. That's what they were...a couple. I had told Katniss that I knew everything was fake, but I was just playing to her illusion. She believes that her love for Peeta was all an act, and perhaps some of it was and still is. But I could tell that there was something there. I had seen it a few times...When she yelled his name in the first games, when they had kissed for the first time when both of them were well and coherent in the cave during the first games, and then just now on the roof before I turned on the lights. Peeta truly was amazing. If Katniss was too stupid and stubborn to recognize that an incredible guy adored her, then I would have to show her. That, or if she still didn't love him, maybe I'd have to love him myself.

I shook that thought out of my mind. Peeta and Katniss had gone back to Katniss's room together to get some sleep, while I wandered back to my room on level 3. As soon as I opened the door, I wished I had stayed up on the roof.

My floor reeked of roses. _President Snow._ I sighed, stalking into the living room.

"Charlotte."

"Snow," I nodded, casually making my way over to the table and my plate of leftovers.

Snow sat on my couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. I grabbed a roll, took a bite, and plopped onto the chair across from him.

"Where've you been?" Snow asked eyeing my roll.

"Oh, but don't you know?" I raised an eyebrow.

He smirked, "Have you prepared fully for tomorrow's dress rehearsal?"

"Do I have a choice not to be prepared?" I snapped another bite out of my roll.

He pursed his lips. "You would do better to answer me directly."

"_Better_?" I narrowed my eyes. "_Bet_-"

"You forget all_ I_ have done for you. What you have _become_ under _my_ instruction!" He exploded, sitting upright.

I clenched my jaw, "What you've done for me? What you've done for me?" I stood up, "What you've made me into is your little barbie doll that you pass around to all your friends!"

He stood up and got so close to my face that I had to wrinkle my nose, but I did not turn away. "You were just a slut before_ I_ turned you into the most desired woman in the Capitol! _I_ gave you the fame and the fortune!_ I_ let you sing and dance to be respected and admired-not just to _sell_ yourself! You should be on your knees _thanking_ me!"

I glared at him, trying very hard not blink. His stare grew more intense until he finally lifted his head, relaxing his shoulders. Snow ran his tongue over his teeth and folded his arms across his chest expectantly at me.

I cocked my head and smirked, "Yes. Yes, thank you my _dear_ President Snow for prostituting me around to _all_ your closest friends. It's _really _just _such_ a _dream_." I laid the sarcasm on thick and grimaced at him.

Snow snarled and narrowed his eyes, "Funny." He sat back down and plopped his feet back onto the coffee table with a bang. He crossed his ankles and put his hands behind his head. "You would think you'd show a little more respect," he paused raising his eyebrows at me, "for someone who holds your brothers and sisters lives in his hands."

I was fuming, my teeth were clenched as hard as my fists. I wanted to rip this disgusting creature in front of me to shreds. He didn't deserve to live. He was a waste of oxygen. But his reminder of my siblings drew me back in. Now I remembered his control over me. I remembered why I had to be obedient, obedient to the point of death. That was what the games were anyways, right? Snow's way of making the victors realize that we were still his pawns. We might have won the games, but we would never escape it. We would always be fighting for our lives and the lives of the people we loved, just so Snow could manipulate us into his little minions. I especially was his favorite doll.

I gave in, dropping to my seat. I looked at him helplessly, in complete defeat. The worst part was that he knew it. His little smirk and twinkle in his eyes shone with victory over me. It was enough to make my stomach convulse.

"That's more like it."

"What do you want?" I snapped, done with all the small talk and beating around the bush.

He raised his eyebrows, but decided to get to the point as he checked his watch, "Room A342. Ten minutes."

He stood, and so did I. I refused to be on a lower level than him. Snow took a step toward me and I stiffened. He reached out to caress my face. I resisted the urge to bite his finger off.

"What you have on is fine," Snow's eyes grazed over my body lingering at little.

I tensed, clenching my jaw. He felt it and drew his hand back. As he passed me on his way to the door, he smacked my butt. My entire body flinched, aching to flip around and take him down, but I controlled myself. I stood rooted to the floor, staring at the wall, with my fists balled up tightly.

Snow glided to the door, chuckling, "Goodnight, Charlotte. I do hope you enjoy yourself."

I couldn't take it anymore. I flew around, growling, ready to pounce on him. But he was already going out the door, shutting it carefully behind him. Snow was still chuckling. I gave a frustrated scream and one big sigh. That was all I allowed myself. I knew that I was probably gross. I needed a shower, my make up was running, my hair was a mess, but I didn't care. I was done putting on a show.

I took a deep breath and stalked out of my suite. Betee and Wiress and the rest of my team wouldn't worry about me. They knew. After all, I hadn't slept in my own bed since I arrived at the Capitol.

I opted to take the stairs; I liked the sound of my heels clicking on the tile. The hotel where all Snow's friends stayed was right across the street from the tributes' building. I knew it well. Every floor. Every hallway. Practically every room.

I entered the vacant, deserted lobby. The desk clerk looked up, startled for a moment, not expecting anyone. He glanced at me, raising an eyebrow at my attire.

I flashed him a mocking smile, and flipped him off as I made my way to the elevator.

"Hey Char," the elevator man greeted me as I stepped into the shaft.

"Chuck."

"Which floor?"

"A3."

"Alright," he paused and we rode in silence. I was still seething.

"You look nice tonight," he said, trying to cheer me up, I'm sure.

I snorted, "Thanks."

He flashed me an embarrassed grin, "You do, though."

Chuck was one of those rare gentlemen. He always complimented me, even though he knew the reason I was there. He was ever polite, and never made the crude jokes that some guys found so hysterical.

The elevator stopped and with a cling the doors opened.

"Alright, well, see you Chuck," I nodded in his direction as I headed out the door.

Before I left, he grabbed my wrist. "Charlotte," he started. "I-I really hope you win. You deserve it."

I gave a half-hearted smile, "Thanks, Chuck. That means a lot."

He gave me a sad, hopeful smile, "Well, see you."

I nodded and walked out into the hallway. The doors closed behind me with another cling. I sighed. Chuck was too nice. I didn't deserve to win. I was probably the most despicable victor going to the Quell. The things I had done... If anyone deserved to be in these games it was me. Besides even if by some miracle I won, what would my life be? I would go back to this...this measly terrible existence. I would be Snow's personal slave; his little barbie doll for the rest of my life. Nothing about my life would be my own, and even more faces would haunt my nightmares. It would almost be a blessing to die so early. I was 24.

I sauntered down the hallway, a little wobbly, as I had downed all the liquor. A340...41...42. I took a deep breath. _Here we go again_, I thought. I knocked on the door. There was no answer. I knocked again, a little confused. I had never had to wait before. Again, there was no answer. I looked around as if someone would appear to shed some light on the situation. The hallway ached with emptiness. Maybe this was all part of some stupid joke Presdient Snow was pulling on me.

I reached for the door handle, expecting it to be locked. I had it set in my mind that I would just walk away. I wasn't going to wait around to be violated. When I pulled down on the handle, the door opened. I slowly pushed my way in. The room was dark and smelled like hotel. You know, the way-too-clean, cold, distant smell that is so opposite from home. I felt around for a light switch, and brightened the room as I called "Hello?"

There was no answer. I checked the bathroom, the closet, the balcony. I couldn't believe it. Was I really alone in this room? Did I really a night to myself in a big, fluffy bed? The kind of night that every other victor got to have. I shut the door and jumped onto the bed, spreading out and relaxing into the comfort of the mattress. I smiled, closing my eyes. For a moment I actually believed this was real.

The next second my eyes snapped open as I heard a strong tap on the door. I sighed, knowing that it was too good to be true. Of course I would not be allowed a night off. I groaned, peeling myself off the bed to answer the door.

I stood on my tip-toes, peeking through the peep hole. I squinted; I couldn't see who was behind the door. Taking a deep breath I swung open the door, bracing myself for the sleaze-bag on the other side.

**So I promise that I will not make any of this super inappropriate so please do not freak out! Haha. Seriously, I have a great surprise in store for you guys! (: **

**Please review! You are awesome! Sorry that it took so long for this to come out, it just took me a while to write this the way I wanted it to be. (:**


	10. Chapter 10: Two is Better Than One

**PLEASE REVIEW IT WOULD MEAN THE WORLD TO ME!**

Chapter 10: Two is Better Than One

I swung open the door. The man who stood in front of me was not a stranger. I knew him well. His huge fist was frozen in the air, about to knock again. Then his face twisted into a confused mess.

"Charlotte?" he asked, his hand dropping to his side.

"Finnick?" the surprise in my voice was stunning. I blinked a few times, and stepped aside to let him in.

He unfroze and walked inside, giving me a knowing look. Finnick probably expected for our...host to be in the room. He was confused to find the bed empty. After checking the balcony and bathroom, he turned to me, "So are we-"

"Alone?" I finished for him, sipping on some red wine I found in the mini-cooler. I was sitting on the edge of the bed watching him in his bewildered pursuit.

He sat down beside me, holding a hand out for the bottle of wine. I handed it over, "Yeah, I think we are. When I got here the room was empty."

He nodded, guzzling the wine. I fell back onto the bed, closing my eyes. "How have you been, Finnick?"

He laid down next to me, letting the wine bottle roll empty across the bedspread. "Alright, I guess," he sighed.

"That's a load of crap," I smirked.

He propped himself up on his elbow to look at me. Then he fell back down laughing. I joined him.

"Gosh our lives are crappy, aren't they?" he chuckled.

"The crappiest," I grinned. "So how have you _really_ been?"

"Tired," he replied.

I snorted. That was true. I could imagine he had gotten about as much sleep as I had the past few days. "Me too."

"So are you ready for tomorrow?" he asked.

"You mean the_ big show_?" I said sarcastically, turning my head to see him nod. "I guess...Our duet's pretty great, right?" I nudged him.

He smiled, "Yeah. I still can't believe they're having us put on a _concert_."

"It is the Quarter Quell," I rolled my eyes. "And Snow does love to abuse talents." Finnick snorted.

We relaxed in the silence, reveling in the peaceful moment. Neither of us had gotten to spend a night like this-among friends, fully-clothed, relaxed-in a long time. For a while we just laid there. Finnick was one of my best friends. He was one of the few people who understood what I was going through. We didn't need to have a conversation to understand what we both really needed tonight was a long, silent break.

I began to fall aleep, sinking into the dark oblivion of unconsciousness. The sweet state of dreams and fantasy that allows you to forget the present. That's what sleep used to mean to me: dreams. Now as I closed my eyes, succombing to the exhaustion, I felt a darkness sweep over me. My dreams, rather nightmares, began. Every face of each tribute I had murdered, beginning with Leo, haunted me. I saw each of their deaths, one by one. I saw how gruesome and terrible and sudden their end was. Every night I lived through the same torture. It never ended. I always watched all of the killings from a distant, bird's eye view. And when I saw myself, I was haunted with my distorted, ravenous face with bloodthirsty fangs spiking out from my mouth. My eyes were bloodshot and insane, while my hair was a massive mess of black. Everything was completely cloaked in blood. I was a monster.

During my nightmares, I never made a sound. No one could tell I was having a nightmare. It was like I was trapped in a coma-able to feel everything, but unable to do anything about it. It was a mental prison, a brutal torture. Still, a part of me knew I deserved this. I had killed all of those people in a vicious, cruel way. Their faces should haunt. I should not be able to live free of them. Their memory had to live on in me. No one should be allowed to forget them, least of all me.

My dreamworld was reaching especially painful as my mind wandered into current territory. I saw my monster attacking Finnick, Peeta, Betee, and eventually Katniss and Johanna. I saw their blood on my hands. It swarmed around me until I drown in it. I was gurgling on the nasty red fluid, when someone shook me awake.

"Charlotte, Charlotte. Char! Wake up," Finnick was leaning over me.

I winced at the brightness of the lights. "Huh?" I mumbled, blinking.

Finnick grabbed my hands, pulling me off the bed. Then, I heard it, someone knocked on the door. Instantly, my mood plummetted. I moaned, grimacing at Finnick. He winced back, and I understood what was going on.

He let go of my hands and whispered, "I'll get it."

I was dreading the night to come. I hated one on one sessions, but when someone pulled me and Finnick into their little fantasy it was just disgusting. I could maintain the business relationship with a stranger, but it was harder to separate friendship from business. It was also really sick. For Finnick's sake, I hoped our host was a girl, but for mine I was desperately hoping for a man. These situations were so sick and twisted. I gulped, feeling my stomach convulse as Finnick peeked through the peephole. From his expression, I could tell it was a man. I sighed in relief, but felt a pang of guilt. _Poor Finnick._

He swung the door open in a grand, sarcastic gesture. As the stranger, entered the room, Finnick did not look at him. He kept his dead gaze set on me. I tried to give him a reassuring smirk, but it was a lame attempt. The man walked halfway in, and removed his coat. He hung it carefully in the open closet by the door. Finnick shut the door with a constricting click. I braced myself. The man turned to glance at me.

He gave me a smile, his eyes attentively staring in my own eyes. This was unexpected. There was no lingering gaze on my scarcely covered body. There was no lust in his eyes. It confused me. I opened my mouth as if to comment, but thought better of it. The man turned around to greet Finnick. He held out his hand, which Finnick shook with a bewildered expression on his face.

The man looked vaguely familiar. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew him. _Where did I know him from?_

"Finnick. Charlotte. Nice to see you," the man said walking farther into the room. Finnick lingered behind him.

"I'm-"

"Plutarch, the head Gamemaker," I cut in.

He smiled, "Yes."

There was an awkward moment. Finnick and I weren't sure what he wanted from us yet, and it was unprecedented for a current Gamemaker to order a current tribute. But of course it was unprecedented for the victors to compete in the Games. I suppose, there was a first time for everything.

I took the initiative, "Do you want to come sit down?" I patted the space beside me on the bed.

"Well, sure, okay," Plutarch said, sitting beside me. His forehead was creased as he glanced all around the room.

I moved to sit behind him on my knees, massaging his shoulders and slowly kissing the back of his neck.

Plutarch jumped, slamming his head into my nose, which started bleeding. "Woah, woah, woah!" He leaped up off the bed and spun around to face me. "What are you doing?"

"Ow," I said holding my nose. I blinked at him in shock. Angrily I retorted, "What am_ I_ doing? What are_ you_ doing? Isn't this what you paid for?" I gestured down to myself.

"What? Oh, no," Plutarch said dismissively, pulling out a small rectangular device from his pocket. It was beeping. Plutarch stood up and started walking around the hotel room. He looked behind paintings, and in the backs of closets. He pulled tiny little black buds off the walls. He found about twelve.

Finnick went to the bathroom and retrieved some tissue paper for me. I thankfully absorbed the blood running from my nose. I hoped it wasn't broken. Finnick sat down beside me as Plutarch crazily walked about the room.

"What do you think he's doing?" he asked.

"I have no idea."

We watched as Plutarch marched out to the balcony and threw all of the little black items three stories to their concrete death. He brushed off his hands and carefully shoved his device back into his pocket. With that, he marched over in front of where Finnick and I sat and plopped himself into the recliner beside the bed.

Finnick raised an eyebrow at me. I shrugged. Plutarch crossed his legs, and folded his hands together. He gave us a diplomatic smile, which Finnick and I returned with an expectant look.

"So..." Finnick began.

"So, how are you two? You look good," Plutarch smiled pleasantly.

I blinked once, resisting the urge to belt out laughing, "Good, thanks. And how are you?" This was all too surreal.

"Fine, fine. Although, Snow promised me a sensor-free room," Plutarch grumbled.

"Oh, so that's what that little thing was," Finnick said shaping it out with his hands.

"Yes. I was making sure we were not being watched...or overheard," he gazed suspiciously around the room as if someone might be hiding in the closet. "I had a feeling Snow wouldn't make good on his promise," he added, grumbling.

I gave a sideways glance to Finnick. "Well...okay?"

Plutarch gave me a weird look like he thought I was acting quite strange. Which was ironic because he was actually the one acting _quite_ strange. "Oh, sorry...forgive me. I know what President Snow told you about tonight's...meeting, but I won't be requiring any of your...er, _services_. See, tonight I wanted to talk to you about the-" he lowered his voice. "About the Resistance."

I crinkled my forehead. The Resistance? I had no time to think about something like that. Rebellion right now meant my brothers' and sisters' deaths. The Resistance! That was just a daydream, something I amused myself with when Snow was being especially annoying. I mean, sure I had snuck off to a few secret meetings. But I had never taken any of it too seriously. There didn't seem to be a way out of my..._duties_. And ever since the Quell I had given the whole idea up..._Until now._

Plutarch brought out a beautiful watch and flipped it open displaying a mockingjay. I knew very well that was the sign. The mockingjay was the sign of the rebellion. Funny how Katniss Everdeen had sparked it all without even trying. Funny how one act of rebellion could accidentally override the people's fear of the Capitol. No wonder the Quell called for the Victors to face each other. I had had my suspicions of Snow's mischief. I assumed he wanted all of us dead, especially Katniss.

"I-I don't know what to think," I said lamely.

Plutarch jumped on his chance, "I know it sounds insane for the Head Gamemaker to be in the Resistance, but don't you see-this is perfect! I am perfectly positioned for..."

"For what?" Finnick asked. "What are you planning and why does it involve us?"

Plutarch grinned, "Escape."

My jaw dropped. "From the-from the-"

"The arena? Exactly," Plutarch was shaking with excitement.

I glanced over at Finnick. He ran his hand through his hair with a thoughtful look on his face. I bit my lip.

"So you are planning to rescue all the Victors from the arena? How is that even possible? I..."Finnick finally spoke.

Plutarch scratched his head, "Uh, actually we are just getting as many Victors as possible...any that would fight on our side with the Resistance."

"How do you know _we're_ interested?" I raised an eyebrow. Plutarch raised one back, puzzled.

"If you aren't I might have to kill you," he laughed, but I felt the threat looming underneath. Inwardly, I chuckled at him. _Like he could take me._

"Fair enough," I raised my hands in surrender. "But where are we escaping _to_?"

"District 13."

I gasped. I had heard rumors of its existence. I'd heard that by some miracle it had survived. In some of the meetings, they had talked about joining with 13. There had never been any real way of following through. I guess somehow the rebels had found a way to communicate. For the first time, I was seriously interested in Plutarch's plan. I wanted out so badly. I wanted to be free of the chains Snow had me locked in.

Finnick looked at me. His face held the same shock and hope that mine did. I bit my lip again and gave Finnick a look that said "What do you think?" He shrugged, but I saw a spark of hope and eagerness in his eyes.

Finnick turned to Plutarch, "So how are we doing this? What's this plan?"

**_SERIOUSLY...REVIEW! I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER 3_ **


	11. Chapter 11: Family Ties

**HOPE YOU LIKE IT(: REVIEW PLEASE! **

Chapter 11: Family Ties

Plutarch had laid the plan out in detail. He didn't tell us who else was involved in the scheme, but he did tell us that our objective was to get into an alliance with Peeta and Katniss. This was expected. Katniss is the mockingjay. She leads the rebellion...even if by accident. The Resistance could use her to spark a flame of inspiration with the people of all the different Districts. Plutarch informed us that Katniss and Peeta were being kept in the dark on this matter. They would not know any of the plans or details because it was too dangerous for them. Apparently it was not too dangerous for Finnick and me, though.

Plutarch had explained everything, answering our various questions. Then he had left abruptly, saying he had another important engagement to attend to. That left Finnick and I in the hotel room alone together again. Now I sat on the edge of the bed processing everything that Plutarch had told me while Finnick took a shower. We didn't dare to venture back to our own rooms.

The moment Plutarch had left I felt a knot tying in my stomach. So much could go wrong. What if someone was left behind? They would be tortured beyond all capacity, even if they knew nothing of District 13 like Peeta and Katniss. If I got left behind, I would rather die than suffer through Snow's twisted mind games. I winced. And then there was the other matter...my family. I could not just leave them behind. Maybe I'd get out of the arena and safely arrive in 13, but Snow would easily be able to pick up my siblings. Then what? I would rush back to the Capitol to free the only family I had left. Plutarch had planned ahead for my concerns.

He had said, "We've made arrangements. I assure you, your family will be completely safe. They will be picked up at about the time you will be."

I hoped he was a decent enough man to be honest with me. And I hoped he was a smart enough man to realize that if he was lying he was dead, and so was the whole rebellion...because the moment I knew Snow had my family, I would spill any District 13 secrets necessary to save their lives, without a second thought. Family came first.

I realized, though, that this was only opportunity. This was my one chance of escape. I could be free from Snow's cold, clammy clutches. My siblings would be safe with me and firmly out of Snow's intrusive reach. I would survive the games. I would help with the war. I would overthrow the Capitol. I would get my revenge. This was what I had been waiting for. This was it. There was no other opportunity lurking around the corner. I had to seize this chance of freedom for myself, my family, and my people. That is why when Plutarch asked if we were in, I smiled and shook his hand, "Definitely."

Finnick had agreed as well, after Plutarch's promises about Annie's rescue were made. Finnick loves her more than anyone or anything in the world. She is very beautiful...and very insane. The Hunger Games had messed with her head, not that it left any of us unaffected. She just isn't fully there. Finnick loves her nonetheless, and he loves her unconditionally. He has been with so many women by President Snow's demands, but in his heart he always belongs to Annie. It was too bad he could never really be hers. Snow would never allow it. But maybe with this plan in play their union was finally a possibility.

I had given up love a long time ago. Sure, I had loved someone once. It was so long ago it felt like a dream. I was such a different person back then. But the unspeakable happened and it ended. It had to. I had ended it quickly, but he had lingered, hoping and wishing. His hopes and wishes amounted to nothing just like I knew they would. It was pointless, really, to love me. There was no way it would ever work. The reason was different, yet similar to the one now. The reason was always my family. I had to sacrifice everything, including love, to keep them alive. I had known a different life for a few years before the incident, but that life seemed surreal now. I lived in the blunt reality. I would never be allowed to love someone. Something or someone would always be in my way. Whether it was Snow, my family, the games, or even I, it didn't matter. This was the truth I had acknowledged and accepted since I was 15: I was to live my life without a partner.

A brief memory surged into my brain before I could suppress it. I saw _his_ face. _Aden. _I snarled at myself, but I couldn't get his face out of my mind. I had worked so hard for so long to forget him, or at least push him to the farthest corners of my brain. And now he had resurfaced. He could never leave me alone. All the memories flooded back leaving me in a gushy mess of the emotions that I had once allowed myself to feel. My body convulsed as the pulse of feelings overwhelmed my heart. I put my hand over my chest, feeling my heartbeat quicken. For a while I had forgotten about my heart. Now, with these emotions that I hadn't felt in so long coming back, its presence was undeniable.

Color rushed back into my brain and I remembered the way it felt to be with _him_, with Aden. I could feel his hand intertwine with my own. His lips peck my cheek. His arms wrap around my waist. His warm breath tickling my neck. His fingers running through my hair. His eyes, bright green with all the excitement for a promising future that young eyes always possess. I remembered what it felt like to lay my head on his firm chest and hear his heart beating in sync with my own. I remembered _everything_.

My eyes watered up as an involuntary smile spread across my face. Then with one image all those happy memories disappeared. I remembered the impossible happening. I remembered how he had tried to help me, but how it hadn't been enough. I remembered being hungry. Sammy, a newborn, wailing all day. Metalia whimpering at me with tearful big blue eyes. Penny complaining all day and all night. Lumi wide-eyed and terrified out of his mind as he realized he was supposed to be the man of the house. And I had only been 14 years old, but had stepped up to the plate. I would not let my family fall apart. So I just existed. I did not live. I worked, finding odd jobs here and there, begging for scraps of food. We scraped by for a while; I maxed out the tesserae. I found little time for Aden. He understood, though, and helped me as often as possible. But none of it had been enough, and I knew we were not going to make it.

I had found a way out when I'd met Lydia. She introduced me to a new way to provide for my family. It had been uncomfortable and humiliating, but it had been necessary. It paid off too. My brothers and sisters did not go hungry; their bellies were satisfied. I owed Lydia my life and all my siblings' lives. Aden tried to understand, he did. But in the end it was too much for him. It would be too much for anyone, I think. He had felt betrayed, as I knew he would. That was why I had tried to set him free before it got ugly, but Aden had never heeded my advice. He left broken just like my heart. That was it. And after all of that, I had suppressed those excruciating memories and feelings to spare myself the agony. I could only suffer so much heartache at one time, and ever since the first games I had simply not found the time to conquer the past lurking in the recesses of my brain.

So now once more I pushed the pain back, for it to haunt me another day. Tonight was not the time to analyze the skeletons in my closet. I heard the water shut off in the bathroom. Finnick would be out soon. I glanced over to the wall mirror to check for puffy, red eyes or running makeup. I wiped my index finger underneath my eyes just to be safe. Then, I kicked off my heels and stripped down to my underwear. My sparkly outfit was highly uncomfortable. Finnick would not care. It's not like he hasn't seen a woman naked before. I amended; _it's not like he hasn't seen _me_ naked before..._ I shuddered at the thought. _But then again who in Panem hasn't?_ I retorted to myself with dark sarcasm.

**I wrote this chapter… and it was over 3,000 words long. So I split it up into two chapters. But the cut-out is really not ideal. :/ But I don't think it's terrible. Sorry a lot of thinking and backstory happening in this chapter, but it is necessary for later stuff. Hope you liked it! Review please(;**


	12. Chapter 12: Break Away

**Like I said about Chapter 11… I wrote these two chapters as one ginormous 3,000 word long chapter. But I decided to cut it up because I think it's more fun to read a shorter chapter and move onto the next chapter than to read ONE long chapter... Two is better than one? hehe **

**But I think I like this half better… (; Hope you like it! REVIEW PLEASE! **

Chapter 12: Break Away

I slipped into bed, loving the feel of the soft sheets enveloping me in comfort. I felt protected, warm, safe, hidden. I gave a big sigh, resting my head into the memory foam pillow. The bathroom door swung open. Finnick sauntered out in his boxers. Most women in Panem would probably faint at the sight of Finnick O'dair in his boxers...and _only_ his boxers. Don't get me wrong, Finnick is a very attractive man...but we are definitely _just_ friends. I feel no attraction toward him whatsoever. And people stripped down to their undergarments are just something you get accustomed to on the job.

It's not like I was Johanna...I didn't strip naked in public. I had to smile at the memory because Katniss had been so freaked out.

Finnick stopped suddenly on his way to the bed. "Oh, Finnick, have you been working out?" he mocked me in a girly, high-pitched voice.

I started cracking up, in between breaths I managed, "I-do _not_-sound like-that!"

He laughed, too, "Oh yes, _yes_ you did." I shot him a venomous glare, but my threat was interrupted with another round of giggles. Once we recovered, he stared at me for a second, "What was that all about anyways?"

I rolled my eyes, "Katniss."

He raised an eyebrow, so I continued, "I was..." I debated my next word choice. "Psyching her out."

"How, exactly?" he said holding back laughter.

I scowled, "I'm...working on getting her to reach a jealous state."

"Jealous of...you and me?" he guffawed.

I rolled my eyes, "No, you idiot. Of me and Peeta." Finnick really needed to pay more attention.

He gave me a dubious look, nodding mockingly. I rolled my eyes, "Forget it."

Finnick laughed and leapt into bed, struggling under the covers.

"Don't you even give me that crap, Finnick O'dair! You're the one who totally_ flirted_ with her before the parade!"

He chuckled at the memory, "That was just a little fun."

He sighed. "But _you_-" he shook his head. "I _know_ you, Charlotte. You're plotting...I can see it in your eyes."

I stuck my tongue out at him, defiantly, "So what if I am?" He raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

Finnick was right, I was plotting. Ever since I had seen the 74th Hunger Games, I had been enamored with Peeta and Katniss. I was desperate to unite them as a happy couple. For some reason, I was completely determined that Snow would not separate them. It had become my accidental mission to bring couples together...like Annie and Finnick. I supposed it was to satisfy the romantic, girly side of me that longed for the romance I had squandered long ago. Whatever the reason, I wanted their happiness. I had appointed myself the matchmaker, and I took my job way too seriously. There was just a part of me that could not let it go. I had to make sure that they ended up together. Someone in the world deserved to be happy. I couldn't describe why I felt so strongly about it, I just knew that I was fully committed.

"Good night, Char," Finnick said, rolling onto his side and pushing the button to turn off the lights.

"Night, Finn," I whispered.

"Sweet dreams," I heard the wry smile in his voice.

"Don't let the bed bugs bite," I replied.

We laid there in silence, trying to sleep. I closed my eyes focusing on anything but _him_. I could not dream of him tonight. It was too painful, much too painful...even more so than my nightmares about the games. In these dreams everything was beautiful and perfect. It was my lovely 13th year._ Paradise_. Then everything would be whisked away out of my reach and I would be thrust into a terrible, agonizing darkness. I would see the hurt I had caused my family and..._him_. Everything I loved, everything in the beautiful dream would go up in voracious flames. I would stand alone in a pile of ash, surrounded by a never-ending darkness until it consumed me. I had tried to beat my subconscious by waking up earlier to avoid the darker turn of my dreams, but somehow I never failed to wake up only _after_ the darkness overwhelmed my soul. _Fantastic._

I sighed, dreading the night to come like I dread all my nights. Finnick shuffled beside me.

"Finn-are you awake?"

"Mhmm," he mumbled.

"Do you think it will work?"

He rolled over to face me; a worry line creased his forehead. His eyes were distressed, "I don't know, Char. I don't think we can know. We just have to hope."

I gave a half-hearted smile and stared up at the black ceiling. "Char," Finnick began. "Will you-will you sing?"

I smirked and taunted, "Sing little Finny a lullaby?"

He chuckled and shook his head. I smiled over at him, "Okay, okay, what do you want to hear?"

He said, "Something...peaceful."

I gave a short laugh and sighed, thinking.

Closing my eyes, I began very quietly,

"Grew up in a small town  
>And when the rain would fall down<br>I'd just stare out my window  
>Dreaming of what could be<br>And if I'd end up happy  
>I would pray<p>

I grew a little louder, loving the sound of my clear voice ringing out in the dark room,

"Trying hard to reach out  
>But when I tried to speak out<br>Felt like no one could hear me  
>Wanted to belong here<br>But something felt so wrong here  
>So I prayed I could break away<p>

As I continued on to the chorus, I remembered how I had written this song a few months after my first games. I wrote it dreaming of escape. How very appropriate for me to sing it now. Songs truly had so much power and influence. They related to us all in a way that nothing else could. I had always reveled in the majesty of a beautiful melody,

"I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly  
>I'll do what it takes till' I touch the sky<br>And I'll make a wish  
>Take a chance<br>Make a change  
>And breakaway<br>Out of the darkness and into the sun  
>But I won't forget all the ones that I love<br>I'll take a risk  
>Take a chance<br>Make a change  
>And breakaway, breakaway, breakaway,"<p>

I grew quieter towards the end. The last word was just a whisper, but it was a promise. I would break away from this life, from Snow, from the arena, from _everything_.

As I finished, I heard a rumbling beside me. Finnick had fallen asleep. I chuckled to myself as he snored. An idea came to me as I was staring at the ceiling. Songs. They had so much power. Enough power to invigorate, inspire, and entertain people. Good melodies got stuck in your head and you found yourself singing them by accident. What if a song could be used to ignite a flame...a flame of resistance? What if the songs I sung tomorrow hid an underlying message that spoke to the rebels in the Districts, but went unnoticed by the people of the Capitol? The wheels in my brain were turning. I could see it happening. I shot out of bed and grabbed the standard hotel notepad and pen off the nightstand. I scribbled down songs and lyrics. If I changed a few lines here or there and substituted a song or two, it could work. I grinned a huge, wide excited smile. This was the first time I had been excited for the concert. I was anticipating the reactions from my victors, the rebels, the Capitol citizens, and President Snow, especially. My singing finally had a useful purpose, and I felt that now I did have a place in the Resistance. I was a piece in the rebellion that no one else could be. My weapon was that of song, and it related to people on a level that no spokesperson ever could. A shiver of anticipation crawled up my spine.

I held back a squeal, as Finnick was still snoring away, and I scribbled down more and more lyrics and songs and choreography and stage settings. Everything had to be perfect because one false move could give away my true intentions in a too revealing way, which could send the televisions around the Districts into darkness. I had to keep the rebellious meanings subtle enough to sneak by, and the dances had to be entertaining enough to distract the Capitol from the true meaning of my words. Goosebumps popped up on my arms.

I wrote until I was so tired the pen fell out of my hand. I passed out and dreamt the dream I knew I would. Paradise was lovely, until the fire destroyed all the light. Knowing the nightmare would come did not make it any less painful. But when I awoke, I saw my writing and the darkness that encompassed me seemed to dissipate. Hope swelled within me as butterflies filled my stomach.

"Finn! Finnick! Wake up! I have to tell you something!" I shook him, eagerly.

**DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW! I'M EXCITED FOR THE CONCERT...WHAT ABOUT YOU? **

**WHAT DO YOU THINK HAPPENED TO CHAR THAT WAS THE "UNTHINKABLE?" **


	13. Chapter 13: Sparkles

**Sorry for the wait! I had a project due and then my dad stole my laptop :/ I got this out as soon as possible! Hope you like it! Let me know...by REVIEWING! But here's an extra long chapter for your trouble(: Enjoy**

Chapter 13: Sparkle

Katniss

(pg. 246-247 of Catching Fire...my insertions will be marked with a *)

We stay on the roof *with Charlotte* until bedtime and then quietly slip down to my room without encountering anyone.

The next morning, we're roused by my prep team. The sight of Peeta and I sleeping together is too much for Octavia, because she bursts into tears right away. "You remember what Cinna told us," Venia says fiercely. Octavia nods and goes out sobbing.

Peeta has to return to his room for prep, and I'm left alone with Venia and Flavius. The usual chatter has been suspended. In fact, there's little talk at all, other than to have me raise my chin or comment on a makeup technique. It's nearly lunch when I feel something dripping on my shoulder and turn to find Flavius, who's snipping away at my hair with silent tears running down his face. Venia gives him a look, and he gently sets the scissors on the table and leaves.

Then it's just Venia, whose skin is so pale her tattoos appear to be leaping off it. Almost rigid with determination, she does my hair and nails and makeup, fingers flying swiftly to compensate for her absent teammates. The whole time, she avoids my gaze. It's only when Cinna shows up to approve me and dismiss her that she takes my hands, looks me straight in the eye, and says, "We would all like you to know what a...privilege it has been to make you look your best." Then she hastens from the room.

My prep team. My foolish, shallow, affectionate pets, with their obsessions with feathers and parties, nearly break my heart with their good-bye. It's certain from Venia's last words that we all know I won't be returning._ Does the whole world know it?_ I wonder. I look at Cinna. He knows, certainly. But as he promised, there's no danger of tears from him.

"So what am I wearing tonight?" I ask, eyeing the garment bag that holds my dress.

(End of excerpt)

Cinna smiles a bit, "Well, as you know, President Snow has put in an additional event this year-"

"The concert," I grimace. I was not looking forward to more stage time, especially when Charlotte had made it obvious that Peeta and I were to be the main attraction. We were the most recent victors after all, and tonight we would be celebrating or commemorating the past games of each of the victors.

He smirked, "You may not be looking forward to it, but it gives me another chance to dress you."

"To make me look amazing, you mean."

He grinned at me, "Exactly."

With that, Cinna pulled out a gorgeous, short red dress. I put it on and gazed into the mirror. My gasp was followed by light chuckling from Cinna.

"You would think that you would be used my designs by now."

I couldn't force my eyes to break their hold on my reflection as I answered, "Their always so...brilliant."

In the front, the dress was short, like I thought; it cut off at about mid-thigh. But, the back was longer and it drifted down toward my ankles. It was strapless and the top was cut lower than I would've thought was comfortable, but somehow I couldn't feel self-conscious in Cinna's divine creation. The dress started at the top bright red, but it progressively darkened, until the very sharply cut straggling ends of my dress were black. Cinna's design was covered in a slinky, shiny fabric that simmered in the light every time I shifted.

I appeared as if I had caught on fire and my dress was burning up in a deadly flame. It was brilliant and dark. A chunky, black leather belt emphasized my tiny waist, while the fabric clung tightly to my figure. The attire was sealed with wicked black leather pumps.

I looked lethal. The prep team had curled my hair into wicked spirals around my face that somehow collected into a braid. Venia had made my eyes smolder with a heavy, smoky black fog around them which was compensated by my pale, neutral pink lips. My cheek bones cut sharply across my face. My look was severe and sexy; I was dark and sinister. I looked like someone who could bring death; someone who would. I smiled, finally tearing my eyes away from the stranger in the mirror.

"Thank you Cinna," I choked by tears.

He gave me a warm smile, "I'm glad you like it...It's not as...dramatic as some of the others. But I think there's a subtle flair." I nodded as he peered over to at me. "And it's a concert," he continued, "It's a little more casual than the interview."

I smiled, "Thank you Cinna. Really I look..."

"Beautiful as always," he finished.

Then, I was whisked away by Effie, who was fearfully fretting over our punctuality, "I just can't believe they added another event! One more thing for me to keep track of! Go, go, go, dear! We're going to be late!"

I walked as fast as I could in five-inch heels to the elevator. Peeta was already waiting inside. When I entered, he smiled.

"Katniss, you look...gorgeous," he said, his eyes appraising my figure revealed by the snug, short dress. I blushed, acutely aware of how low-cut my attire was. For a moment, I second-guessed Cinna, but then I remembered that I trusted him whole-heartedly.

"You don't look so bad yourself," I mumbled, staring a little too long at how his tight, fitted red shirt that matched my dress hugged his muscles. Peeta was dressed in dark black straight jeans and a red v-neck that simmered and flickered like my dress did. Over it, he wore a black leather jacket to compliment my belt. His hair was loosely-styled into a messy, grungy look. His smoky, smoldering eyes hinted at just the slightest touch of makeup. Bulky black combat boots were pulled up over his jeans. He was devilishly handsome.

In the faded reflection on the elevator wall, I saw the pair of us. We were stunning and deadly; a force to be reckoned with. But most of all, we were a couple-a wicked, sexy, dark, club-ready, couple. Peeta took my hand in his, and I smiled up at him.

When we arrived backstage, we were shoved to the back of a line. Chaff and Seeder were in front of us along with Woof, Cecila, Blight, and Johanna. Everyone from Districts 7-12.

When I heard Caesar Flickerman's voice on the microphone announcing a new celebration was going to happen for the first time tonight, I began to feel butterflies in my stomach. Peeta squeezed my hand for reassurance when he felt me tense up. I bit my lip, focusing on the back of Chaff and Seeder's heads.

I wasn't sure how this whole concert thing was going to go down, but I was sure it couldn't be anything good. After all, President Snow was running it; he had specifically called for this to occur. Commemoration of the Victors: the nice way of saying that tonight they would rub our games in our faces. We would feel the hurt, pain, and fear from our past games, and realize that this was the fate that we would face tomorrow. Only on the TV, we knew we were going to make it out. Tomorrow, there was a good chance that we would die. Only one of us would survive. I shivered as the line started to move and the victors were called onto stage.

"And lastly from District 12...Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen!"

We strode onto stage, smiling and waving. Two seats sat at the end of the semi-circle of chairs on the stage. Peeta and I took our place, glancing around the circle. Two were missing: Charlotte and Finnick. Betee sat alone, but was unperturbed, and Mags contentedly looked upon the audience members by herself.

We sat in an arc that connected to a built-on semi-circle that dug into the audience at the edge of the once rectangular stage. I tried to continue smiling, but I was so confused. Peeta's firm grip on my hand was my only comfort.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, let the Commemoration begin!"

With that streamers of all colors flew and lights exploded, smoke rose from the center of the circle. The crowd went wild. The stage opened up to reveal two people as the music started playing. I recognized Charlotte's long dark locks of hair, and saw Finnick emerge as well.

Dancers flew across the stage from no one, and backup singers dropped from wires above the stage. It was chaos and yet beautiful and captivating. The roar of the crowd faded as Char's voice rang out, melodically,

"I came to win, to fight, to conquer, to thrive...I came to win, to survive, to prosper, to rise. To fly...To fly."

Images flashed across once-hidden TV screens and projectors of the Victors from all different games. Their faces, their last battles, their moment of victory, their final interview. Everything flew by.

Finnick started in then, rapping coolly, "I wish today it will rain all day. Maybe that will kinda make the pain go away. Trying to forgive you for abandoning me. Praying but I think I'm still an angel away. Angel away, yeah strange in a way. Maybe that is why I chase strangers away. They got their guns out aiming at me. But I become near when they aiming at me..."

Char took over with the quick lyrics, "Me, me, me against them; me against enemies, me against friends. Somehow they both seem to become one; a sea full of sharks and they all smell blood. They start coming and I start rising. Must be surprising, I'm just summising. I win, thrive, soar, higher, higher, higher; more fire..."

And Finnick went back to the chorus, "I came to win, to fight, to conquer, to thrive...I came to win, to survive, to prosper, to rise. To fly...To fly..."

This time Char started out the rap, "Everybody wanna try to box me in. Suffocating everytime it locks me in. Paint they own pictures then they crop me in. But I will remain where the top begins. Cause I am not a word, I am not a line. I am not a girl that can every be defined. I am not fly, I am levitation. I represent an entire generation."

Finnick jumped in, "I hear the criticism loud and clear. That is how I know that the time is near. So we become alive in a time of fear. And I ain't got no motherf*cking time to spare. Cry my eyes out for days upon days. Such a heavy burden placed upon me. But when you go hard your nay's become yay's. Yankee Stadium with Jay's and Kanye's." (Please ignore that line-it doesn't really fit, but I can't think of anything good to replace it with...if it bothers you that much come up with your own replacement and review)

Charlotte commanded the room with her lovely voice, "I came to win, to fight, to conquer, to thrive...I came to win, to survive, to prosper, to rise. To fly..To fly." Char and Finnick worked great together. The crowd cheered perpetually; the energy was crazy ecstatic in the auditorium.

"Get ready for it. Get ready for it. Get ready for it," Finnick sung.

"I came to win," Char's voice rang out.

"Get ready for it. Get ready for it."

"I came to win."

The song was coming to an end, the dancers slowed, and the screens showed final images of each of the tributes. Finnick and Charlotte finished it off with a perfect harmony, "I came to win, to fight, to conquer, to thrive. I came to win, to survive, to prosper, to rise. To fly...To fly."

The music ended. Everyone was clapping. Peeta had broken our hold, to applaud the performers himself.

He whispered, "What do you think?"

I creased my forehead, "It's pretty loud."

He laughed at me, "No, I mean...never mind." He shook his head, and I rolled my eyes.

When the roar diminished, Peeta retook my hand, and Charlotte took a handheld microphone.

I could finally see what she was wearing. Under all the lights and chaos, she had been hard to make out. Now I could see that she wore a shiny silver dress that made her look like a human disco ball. Of course on her that was endearing. It fit snugly like all her outfits did. It cut just above mid-thigh. Her black, high-heeled boots reached up thigh-high. Her wild locks were curled voraciously around her. I couldn't see the front of her dress, or her makeup, but I could guess. Her neckline would be cut scandalously low, and her makeup would be her usual style. Her eyes would be heavily outlined in black with just the touch of smoky black, while her lips would be bright red. And no doubtably, she would be stunning. She always was. It almost wasn't fair. Now my fierce look seemed silly compared to her dazzling beauty.

"Welcome to the Commemoration of the Victors!" Char said cheerfully. I flinched at the word. It was so wretched, wasn't it? To call this concert a commemoration was so...twisted. We were honoring the memory of our games; honoring the memory of our lives. It was like a memorial service before our impending deaths. How morbid.

"I'm Charlotte Daedalus. This is Finnick O'dair," she gestured to him and he waved.

"And we will be your hosts tonight! Since this event is brand new, I will explain how it's going to work. A song will be sung for each District to remember and celebrate the pair's games."

She paused, decided something and moved on, "The songs were written _by me_ specifically for each tribute!"

She stressed how she had written the songs. I snorted. She and Finnick would be racking up the sponsors tonight, that was for sure.

"They haven't even _heard_ their songs yet! Isn't that a great surprise? That they have no idea what I'll be singing about them!" Her enthusiasm and sarcasm bubbled over deliciously and the audience ate it up.

She laughed along with the crowd, "Oh, but I promise, guys," she turned to us, turning a little more serious, "I really did try hard to make these songs..._spark_le." She grinned, while everyone gave half-hearted smiles back. No one was really looking forward to this.

"So," she began, "without further ado, let's remember Cashmere and Gloss from District 1!"

Char motioned over to them, and the crowd cheered as they stood up. Cashmere was striking and distant-looking, but I saw a spark of anxiety in her eyes.

The band cranked the music, and the wild frenzy began again. Dancers, singers, streamers, confetti, lights, colors, action, TVs, screens, audio from old games. Everything consumed into one mega beast. It was almost hard to concentrate on anything Charlotte did, but I listened, curious as to what she would sing for the Careers from 1. Finnick had vanished and reappeared in the seat next to Mags. Charlotte stood alone on stage as she began belting out the song,

"You shout it out,  
>but I can't hear a word you say<br>I'm talking loud not saying much."

I saw disinterest on Gloss and Cashmere's faces. They politely listened, distractedly.

"I'm criticized but all your bullets ricochet  
>You shoot me down, but I get up<p>

I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose  
>Fire away, fire away<br>Ricochet, you take your aim  
>Fire away, fire away<br>You shoot me down but I won't fall  
>I am titanium<br>You shoot me down but I won't fall  
>I am titanium."<p>

By the end of the chorus, the victors from 1 were on the edge of their seats with anticipation. I saw Cashmere's eyes water slightly, as Gloss squeezed his sister's hand tightly. They smiled sadly at each other and refocused on Charlotte. The crowd loved this upbeat, fast-paced interesting song...almost as much as they loved watching the chaos and spectacle before them. I wasn't sure if they heard Char's words or if they just heard beautiful sound.

"Cut me down  
>But it's you who have further to fall<br>Ghost town and haunted love  
>Raise your voice, sticks and stones may break my bones<br>I'm talking loud not saying much

I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose  
>Fire away, fire away<br>Ricochet, you take your aim  
>Fire away, fire away<br>You shoot me down but I won't fall  
>I am titanium<br>You shoot me down but I won't fall  
>I am titanium<br>I am titanium  
>I am titanium<p>

Stone-hard, machine gun  
>Firing at the ones who run<br>Stone-hard, those bulletproof glass

You shoot me down but I won't fall  
>I am titanium<br>You shoot me down but I won't fall  
>I am titanium<br>You shoot me down but I won't fall  
>I am titanium<br>You shoot me down but I won't fall  
>I am titanium<br>I am titanium."

Gloss and Cashmere rose to their feet clapping excitedly. Cashmere swiped away a traitor tear, smiling hugely. Charlotte bowed for the crowd and turned around to scan her peers' faces. She sauntered over to the siblings and gave them a huge hug. Finnick stood clapping along with Mags and Betee. The rest of us clapped happily, but didn't really understand why Cashmere was so hysterical. The song had been great, but I didn't see how it could have affected the victors the way it did. Clearly, I was missing something.

Charlotte pulled out of the hug and whipped around to see the rest of our expressions. She strode over to hand Finnick the microphone, whispering something in his ear, and then took her seat next to Betee. He patted her on the leg, appreciatively.

Finnick marched to center stage, thumping the microphone with his finger. "Is this thing on?" he joked. The crowd laughed.

"So that was great, right?" he smiled, and the audience gave a short burst of applause in agreement.

"Well, let's see if I can top that," he wiggled his eyebrows, grinning back at Char, who glared playfully at him.

"This is for you, Brutus and Enobaria. District 2. It's called Survival."

The music started and the spectacle continued.

"Race, life's a race. And I am gonna win. Yes, I am gonna win. And I'll light the fuse. And I'll never lose. And I choose to survive; whatever it takes. You won't pull ahead; I'll keep up the pace. And I'll reveal my strength to the whole human race. Yes I am prepared to stay alive. I won't forgive, the vengeance is mine. And I won't give in because I choose to thrive."

Enobaria and Brutus now cracked wide, vicious grins. They were clearly pleased. I saw them whisper something to Charlotte, and she smiled and nodded.

"I'm gonna win

Race, it's a race but I'm gonna win. Yes I'm gonna win. And will light the fuse. I'll never lose. And I choose to survive; whatever it takes. You won't ṗull ahead; I'll keep up the pace. And I'll refill my strength to the whole human race. Yes I'm gonna win.

Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Win! Win! Win! Win!"

The whole crowd was pumping their fists in time with Finnick's words, shouting "Fight!" and "Win!" Enobaria and Brutus joined them with a wicked amusement playing in their eyes.

"Yes I'm gonna win."

The song ended. Peeta leaned over and whispered in my ear jovially, "Crazy how that was perfect for them, right?"

I laughed quietly, mouthing, "I know!"

He chuckled, and we directed our attention to Finnick who walked to shake hands with Enobaria and Brutus, who turned to give Charlotte a huge grin once again. Maybe this "commemoration" was not so crazy after all. Maybe there was a point lying beneath all this spectacle.

**REVIEW PLEASE!**

**-OKAY AND JUST IN CASE YOU DIDN'T KNOW...I don't own the songs that I used in this chapter (the names of said songs are below) haha**

**This is the schedule of the commemoration so far: **

**Introduction: Fly by Nicki Minaj featuring Rihanna**

**District 1 (Cashmere & Gloss): Titanium by David Guetta featuring Sia**

**District 2 (Brutus & Enobaria) : Survival by Muse (This is the official song of the Olympics in London this year! get excitedd!) **

**District 3 is up next! FINNICK HERE WE GO! **

**Hope you liked my song choices. **


End file.
